this
conversation to him.

"I am willing to allow that it's funny," I said; "but after all there is
a rude pathos in the man, an untutored chivalry. Nearly every man loves
and reverences a woman; but this man loves and reverences women. It is
old-fashioned, I know, but it has a breezy sweetness of its own, like
the lavender and rosemary of our grandmothers; don't you think so?"

There was no reply. I imagine that Esculapius is sensible at times of
his want of ideality, and feels a delicacy in conversing with me. So I
went on musingly:--

"With such natures love is an instinct; and it is to instinct, after
all, that we must look for everything that is fresh and poetic in
humanity. We have all made this sacrifice to culture,--a sacrifice of
force to expression. Isn't it so, my love?"

Still no reply.

"I like to picture to myself the affection of which such a man is
capable, for no doubt he loves this girl of whom he speaks; not, of
course, as you--as you _ought_ to love me, but with a rude, wild
sincerity, a sort of rugged grandeur. Imagine him betrayed by her. A man
of the world might grow white about the lips and sick at heart, but he
would find relief in cynicism and bitter words. This man would
_act_,--some wild, strange act of vengeance. The cultured nature is a
honeycomb: his is a solid mass; and masses give us our most picturesque
effects. Don't you think so, my dear?"

And still no reply.

"Esculapius!"

"Well, my love?"

"Isn't it barbarous of you not to answer when I speak to you?"

"Possibly; at least it has that appearance, but there are mitigating
circumstances, my dear. I was asleep."

II.

Two weeks later the colonel brought his wife to call upon me. She was a
showy, loud-voiced blonde, resplendently over-dressed. At the first
opportunity her husband motioned me aside.

"Isn't she about the gayest piece of calico you ever saw?" he asked,
with proud confidence. "Doesn't she lay over anything around here by a
large majority?"

"She is certainly a very striking woman," I said gravely, "and one who
does you great credit. But I am a little surprised, Colonel. No doubt it
was a mistake, but I got the impression in some way that the lady was a
brunette."

The colonel's countenance fell. "Now, look here," he said, after a
little reflection; "I don't mind telling you, because you're up to the
city ways and you'll understand. The fact is, this _isn't the one_. You
see, I went on to 'Frisco a