d received their burdens; and in another hour, the joyous
festival was but a recollection. After the reel--nothingness.

The Apollo room was still again--waiting for other men than youthful
gallants, other words than flattering compliments.

And Mowbray went home with a wounded heart, which all the smiles of
Philippa could not heal--for Hoffland was his rival. Denis went home
with a happy heart, for Lucy had smiled on him. Sir Asinus was
miserable--boy Bathurst was happy. The ball at the Raleigh was a true
microcosm, where John smiled and James sighed, and all played on, and
went away miserable or the reverse.

And so it ended.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

SIR ASINUS INTENDS FOR EUROPE.

The morning of the May-day festival dawned bright and joyous;--nature
seemed to be smiling, and the "rosy-bosomed hours" began their flight
toward the west, with that brilliant splendor which they always deck
themselves in, in the merry month of May.

Jacques rose early, and was at his mirror betimes. He had selected a
suit of extraordinary richness, made with express reference to the
rainbow; and when he drew on his coat, and took a last survey of
himself in the mirror, he smiled--no longer sighed--and thought of
Belle-bouche with the triumphant feeling of a general who has driven
the enemy at last into a corner.

He issued forth and mounted his gay charger, which, with original and
brilliant taste, he had decked with ribbons for the joyous festival;
and as he got into the saddle and gathered up the reins, a little
crowd of diminutive negro boys, with sadly dilapidated garments,
cringed before him, and threw up their caps and split the air with
"hoora's" in his honor.

Jacques pranced forth from the _Raleigh_ stable yard in state, and
took his way along Gloucester street, the admiration of every
beholder. He was going to glory and conquest--probably: he was on his
way to happiness--perhaps. He felt a sentiment of benevolent regard
for all the human family, and even, in passing, cast his thoughts on
Sir Asinus.

That gentleman's window was open, and something strange seemed to be
going on within.

And as Jacques drew nearer, he observed a placard dangling from the
window. This placard bore in huge letters the mournful words:

"THE WITHIN INTENDS FOR EUROPE ON THE MORROW."

Jacques felt his conscience smite him--he could not let his friend
depart without bidding him adieu. He dismounted, tied his horse, and
laughing to h