"
"With alacrity, madam." He laid in a fresh stock of provisions.
Strange it was to see them side by side! _he,_ a Don Quixote, with
cordage instead of lines in his mahogany face, and clothes hanging upon
him; _she,_ smooth, duck-like, delicious, and bright as an opening rose
fresh with dew!
She watched him kindly, archly and demurely; and still plied him,
countrywise, with every mortal thing on the table.
But the poet was not a boa-constrictor, and even a boa-constrictor has an
end. Hunger satisfied, his next strongest feeling, simple vanity,
remained to be contented. As the last morsel went in out came:
"'Bright being, thou whose ra--'"
"No! no!" said she, who fancied herself (and not without reason) the
bright being. "Mr. Vane intended them for a surprise."
"As you please, madam;" and the disappointed bore sighed. "But you would
have liked them, for the theme inspired me. The kindest, the most
generous of women! Don't you agree with me, madam?"
Mabel Vane opened her eyes. "Hardly, sir," laughed she.
"If you knew her as I do."
"I ought to know her better, sir."
"Ay, indeed! Well, madam, now her kindness to me, for instance--a poor
devil like me. The expression, I trust, is not disagreeable to you,
madam? If so, forgive me, and consider it withdrawn."
"La, sir! civility is so cheap, if you go to that."
"Civility, ma'am? Why, she has saved me from despair--from starvation,
perhaps.
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