, "is undoubtedly-"
"No, sir!"
"Indubitably-"
"No, sir!"
"Indisputably-"
"No, sir!"
"Evidently-"
"No, sir!"
"Incontrovertibly-"
"No, sir!"
"Hiccup!-"
"No, sir!"
"And beyond all question, a-"
"No sir, the soul is no such thing!" (Here the philosopher,
looking daggers, took occasion to make an end, upon the spot, of his
third bottle of Chambertin.)
"Then- hic-cup!- pray, sir- what- what is it?"
"That is neither here nor there, Monsieur Bon-Bon," replied his
Majesty, musingly. "I have tasted- that is to say, I have known some
very bad souls, and some too- pretty good ones." Here he smacked his
lips, and, having unconsciously let fall his hand upon the volume in
his pocket, was seized with a violent fit of sneezing.
He continued.
"There was the soul of Cratinus- passable: Aristophanes- racy:
Plato- exquisite- not your Plato, but Plato the comic poet; your Plato
would have turned the stomach of Cerberus- faugh! Then let me see!
there were Naevius, and Andronicus, and Plautus, and Terentius. Then
there were Lucilius, and Catullus, and Naso, and Quintus Flaccus,-
dear Quinty! as I called him when he sung a seculare for my amusement,
while I toasted him, in pure good humor, on a fork.
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