Here the chief magistrate, no longer daring to smile, burst into a fit
of laughter; and turning to his courtiers said, 'I have not an idea what
this man is talking about, but I know that he makes my head ache: give
me a cup of wine, and let us have a dance.'
All applauded the royal proposition; and pushing Popanilla from one to
another, until he was fairly hustled to the brink of the lagoon, they
soon forgot the existence of this bore: in one word, he was cut. When
Popanilla found himself standing alone, and looking grave while all the
rest were gay, he began to suspect that he was not so influential a
personage as he previously imagined. Rather crest-fallen, he sneaked
home; and consoled himself for having nobody to speak to by reading some
amusing 'Conversations on Political Economy.'
CHAPTER 5
Popanilla was discomposed, but he was not discomfited. He consoled
himself for the Royal neglect by the recollection of the many
illustrious men who had been despised, banished, imprisoned, and burnt
for the maintenance of opinions which, centuries afterwards, had been
discovered to be truth.
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