"What will these amiable
and discreet young ladies who honor us with their company think of
us? For me the young women are like the AEolian harps in the middle of
the night--it is necessary to listen with close attention in order
that their ineffable harmonies may elevate the soul to the celestial
spheres of the infinite and the ideal!"
"Your Honor is becoming poetical!" exclaimed the escribano gleefully,
and both emptied their wine-glasses.
"I can't help it," said the alcalde as he wiped his lips. "Opportunity,
while it doesn't always make the thief, makes the poet. In my youth
I composed verses which were really not bad."
"So your Excellency has been unfaithful to the Muses to follow Themis,"
emphatically declared our mythical or mythological correspondent.
"Pshaw, what would you have? To run through the entire social scale was
always my dream. Yesterday I was gathering flowers and singing songs,
today I wield the rod of justice and serve Humanity, tomorrow--"
"Tomorrow your Honor will throw the rod into the fire to warm yourself
by it in the winter of life, and take an appointment in the cabinet,"
added Padre Sibyla.
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