asy. 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.

CHAPTER VI.

HOW SIR ASINUS STAKED HIS GARTERS AGAINST A PISTOLE, AND LOST.

Sir Asinus fled like the wild huntsman, although there was this slight
difference between the feelings of the two characters:--the German
myth was himself the pursuer, whereas Sir Asinus imagined himself
pursued.

He looked around anxiously from time to time, under the impression
that his worthy friend and pedagogue was on his heels; and whenever a
traveller made his appearance, he was complimented with a scrutiny
from the flying knight which seemed to indicate apprehension--the
apprehension of being made a prisoner.

Just as Sir Asinus reached the outskirts of the town, he observed a
chariot drawn by six milk-white horses approaching from a county road
w