University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.
IN WHICH SIR ASINUS MAKES AN IGNOMINIOUS RETREAT

SIR ASINUS was apparently in high spirits, and
smoothed the nap of his cocked hat with his sleeve
—the said sleeve being of Mecklenburg silk—in a way
which indicated the summit of felicity.

He seemed to inhale the May morning joyously after
his late imprisonment; and he betook himself immediately
to paying assiduous court to Miss Belle-bouche,
who, the sooth to say, did not seem ill-disposed to get
rid of Jacques.

Poor Jacques, therefore, made an unsuccessful attempt
to engage Philippa in conversation. This failing—for
Philippa was watching Mowbray disappearing toward
Williamsburg—the melancholy Jacques made friends
with the lap-dog, who at first was propitious, but ended
by snapping at his fingers.

“A delightful day, my dear madam,” he said to
Philippa, once more endeavoring to open an account
current of conversation.

Philippa, with bent brows, made no reply.

“The birds are having a charming time, it seems.”

Poor Jacques! Philippa is buried in thought, and
with her eyes fixed on the receding horseman, does not
hear him.

“You seem preoccupied, madam,” he said.

“Yes, a charming day, sir,” she said, rising; “did
you say it was pleasant? I agree with you. If I
dared!” she added to herself, “if I only dared! But
what do I not dare!”

And she abruptly left the room, to the profound astonishment
of Jacques, who sat gazing after her with
wide-extended eyes.

“I told you he was in love with her, my dear Miss
Belle-bouche, since you say that will in future be your
name—it is either with you or Madam Philippa.”

These words were uttered in a confidential whisper to
Belle-bouche by Sir Asinus, who was leaning forward
gracefully in a tall carven-backed chair toward his companion,
who reposed luxuriously upon an ottoman
covered with damask, and ornamented quoad the legs
with satyr heads.

Belle-bouche suffered her glance to follow that of her
companion. Jacques was indeed, as we have said, gazing
after the lady who had just departed, and for this
purpose had opened his eyes to their greatest possible
width. He resembled a china mandarin in the costume
of Louis Quatorze.

“Am I mistaken?” said Sir Asinus.

Belle-bouche sighed.

“A plain case: he is even now saying to himself, my
dear Miss Belle-bouche,

which means, `How can I make up my mind to see
you go up stairs?'

Belle-bouche cast a tender glance at Jacques. Sir
Asinus continued:

“Yes, yes, I see you pity him. But you should pity
me.”

“Why?”

“Your watch-paper—you remember; the one which
you cut for me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, last night I placed my watch on my window
—before retiring, you know; and in the night,” continued
Sir Asinus, “it commenced raining——”

“That was last night?”

“Yes, Madam Belle-bouche. Well, the roof leaked,
and presto! when I rose I found my watch swimming
in water—your watch-paper all soaked and torn—that is
to say, my fingers tore it; and a dozen minutes I had
bought for you shared the same fate, not to mention my
jemmy-worked garters! My ill luck was complete—
me miserum!”

“Was it at college?”

“Oh no,” said Sir Asinus; “you know I am tempo-rarily
absent from the Alma Mater.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes. I have taken up my residence in town—in
Gloucester street, where I am always happy to see my
friends. Just imagine a man persecuted by the professors
of the great University of William and Mary for
the reason I was.”

“What was it?”

“Because I uttered some heresies. I said the Established
Church was a farce, and that women, contrary to
the philosophy of antiquity, really had souls. The great

Doctor could pardon my fling at the church; but being
an old woman himself, could not pardon my even seeming
to revive the discussion of the heresy in relation to
your sex. What was the consequence? I had to flee—
the enemy went about to destroy me: behold me now
the denizen of a second floor in old Mother Bobbery's
house, Gloucester street, city of Williamsburg.”

“Rusticating you call it, I think,” says Belle-bouche,
smiling languidly, and raising her brow to catch the
faint May breeze which moves her curls.

“Yes; rusticating is the very word—derived from
rus, a Latin word signifying main street, and tike, a
Greek word meaning to live in bachelor freedom. It
applies to me exactly, you see. I live in bachelor freedom
on Gloucester street, and I only want a wife to make
my happiness complete.”

Belle-bouche smiles.

“You are then dissatisfied?” she says.

“Yes,” sighs Sir Asinus; “yes, in spite of my pipes
and books and pictures, and all appliances and means to
boot for happiness, I am lonely. Now suppose I had
a charming little wife—a paragon of a wife, with blue
eyes and golden curls, and a sweet languishing air, to
chat with in the long days and gloomy evenings!”

Belle-bouche recognises her portrait, and smiles.

Sir Asinus continues:

“Not only would I be happier, but more at my ease.
To tell you the humiliating truth, my dear Miss Belle-bouche,
I am in hourly fear of being arrested.”

“Would a wife prevent that?”

“Certainly. What base proctor would dare lay hands
upon a married man? But this all disappears like a

vision—it is a dream: fuit Ilium, ingens gloria Teucrorumque;
which means, `Mrs. Tom is still in a state of
single blessedness,' that being the literal translation of
the Hebrew.”

And Sir Asinus smiles; and seeing Jacques approach,
looks at him triumphantly.

Jacques has just been bitten by the lap dog; and this,
added to his melancholy and jealousy, causes him to feel
desolate.

“Pardon my interrupting your pleasant conversation,”
he says.

“Oh, no interruption!” says Sir Asinus triumphantly.

“But I thought I'd mention——”

“Speak out, speak out!” says Sir Asinus, shaking with
laughter, and assuming a generous and noble air.

“I observed through the window a visitor, fairest
Belinda.”

“Ah! I was so closely engaged,” says Sir Asinus, “like
a knight of the middle ages, I thought only of my `ladye
faire.' Nothing can move me from her side!”

“Indeed?” says Jacques.

“Nothing!”

“Well, well, at least I have not counselled such
desertion on your part. The visitor at the gate there
is Doctor Small from college. I only thought I'd mention
it!”

Like an electric shock dart the words of Jacques
through the frame of the chivalric Sir Asinus. He starts
to his feet—gazes around him despairingly, seeking a place
of refuge.

The step of worthy Doctor Small is heard upon the
portico; Sir Asinus quakes.

“Are you unwell, my dear friend?” asks Jacques with
melancholy interest.

“I am—really—come, Jacques!” stammers Sir Asinus.

“Are you indisposed?”

“To meet the Doctor? I rather think I am. Mercy!
mercy! dear Campana in die,” cries the knight; “hide
me! hide me!—up stairs, down stairs—any where!”

The footstep sounded in the passage.

Belle-bouche laughed with that musical contagious
merriment which characterized her.

“But what shall we say?” she asks; “I can't tell the
Doctor you are not here.”

“Then I must go. Can I escape? Oh heavens! there
is his shadow on the floor! Jacques, my boy, protect
my memory—I must retire!”

And Sir Asinus rushed through the open door leading
into the adjoining room, just as Doctor Small entered
with his benevolent smile and courteous inclination.

He had been informed in town, he said, that his young
friend Thomas, withdrawn now some days from college,
was at Shadynook; and taking advantage of his acquaintance
with Mrs. Wimple, and he was happy to add with
Miss Rebecca, he had come to find and have some friendly
conversation with Thomas. Had he been at Shadynook,
or was he misinformed?

The reply was easy. Sir Asinus had disappeared
through a door leading into the garden some moments
before, and Belle-bouche could reply most truthfully—as
she did—that the truant had visited her that morning,
but was gone.

The worthy Doctor smiled, and said no more.

He exchanged a few words on the pleasant weather—

smiled benevolently on the young girl—and with a sly
glance asked Jacques if he designed attending lecture
that morning.

The melancholy Jacques hesitated: a look from Belle-bouche
would have caused him to reply that he regretted
exceedingly his inability to honor his Alma Mater on
that particular occasion; but unfortunately the young
girl said nothing. Was she afraid of a second private interview,
wherein the subject should be crooks and shepherdesses,
and the hopes of Corydons? At all events,
Belle-bouche played with her lace cuff, and her countenance
wore nothing more than its habitual faint smile.

Jacques heaved a sigh, and said he believed he ought
to go.

The Doctor rose, and pressing Belle-bouche's hand,
kindly took his leave—followed by Jacques, who cast a
last longing, lingering look behind.

As for Sir Asinus, we regret to speak of him. Where
were now all his chivalric thoughts—his noble resolutions—his
courage and devotion to his lady fair? Alas!
humanity is weak: we are compelled to say that the
heroic knight, the ardent lover, the iron-hearted rebel,
suddenly changed his device, and took for his crest a lion
no longer, only a hare.

From the back room he emerged into the garden, quaking
at every sound; once in the garden, he stole ignominiously
along the hedge; then he sallied forth into the
road; then he mounted his horse, and fled like the wind.