Sir Asinus was sitting in an easy chair tuning a violin; his pointed features wearing their usual expression of cynical humor, and his dress wofully negligent. He had been making a light repast upon crackers and wine, and on the floor lay a tobacco pipe with an exceedingly dirty reed stem, which Jacques, with his usual bad fortune, trod upon and reduced to a bundle of splinters. "There!" cried Sir Asinus, "there, you have broken my pipe, you awkward cub!" "Ah," sighed Jacques, gazing upon the splinters with melancholy curiosity; "what you say is very just." And sitting down, he gazed round him, smiling sadly. "Nothing better could be expected from you, however, you careless fop!" And giving one of the violin pegs a wrench, Sir Asinus snapped a string. "There!" he cried, "you bring bad fortune! whenever you come, I have the devil's own luck." Jacques laughed quietly, and stretching out his elegant foot, yawned luxuriously. "You are naturally unlucky, my dear knight," he said. "Hand me a glass of wine--or don't trouble yourself: the exercise of rising will do me good." And leaning over, he poured out a glass of wine and sipped it. "I was coming along, and thought I would come in," he said. "How is your Excellency to-day?" "Dying of weariness!" "What! even your great Latin song----" "Is growing dull, sir. How can a man live on solitude and Latin? No girls, no frolics, no fun, no nothing, if I may use that inelegant expression," said Sir Asinus. "Go back, then." "Never!" "Why not?" "Do you ask? I am a martyr, sir, to my great and expanded political ideas; my religious opinions; my theory of human rights." "Ah, indeed? Well, they ought to appreciate the compliment you pay them, and console you in your exile." "They do, sir," said Sir Asinus. "Delighted to hear it," sighed Jacques, setting down his glass. "Has Doctor Small called on you yet?" "No. I fervently desire that he will call. We could sing my Latin song together--he would take the bass; and in three hours I should make of him a convert to my political ideas." "Indeed? Shall I mention that you wish to see him?" "No, I believe not," said Sir Asinus; "I am busy at present." "At what--yawning?" "No, you fop! I am framing a national anthem for the violin." "Tune--the 'Exile's Return,' eh?" "Base scoffer! But what news?" "A great piece." "What?" "I am too indolent to tell it." "Come, Jacques--I'm dying for news." "I really couldn't. You have no idea how weakly I am growing; and as it deals in battle and blood, I cannot touch upon it." "Ah! that is the character of a man's friends. In the sunshine all devotion; in adversity----" "And exile----" "All hatred." "Very well," said Jacques, "I can afford to labor under your injustice. You are systematically unjust. But I just dropped in as I passed--and, my dear Sir Asinus, there is a visitor coming. I shall intrude----" "No; stay! stay!" "Very well."