The pedant, very much amused at
the boyish eagerness and enjoyment of his youthful host, quietly heaped
choice bits upon his plate, and watched their rapid disappearance with
beaming satisfaction. Beelzebub had at last plucked up courage and crept
softly under the table to his master, making his presence known by a
quick tapping with his fore-paws upon the baron's knees; his claims were
at once recognised, and he feasted to his heart's content on the savoury
morsels quietly thrown down to him. Poor old Miraut, who had followed
Pierre into the room, was not neglected either, and had his full share
of the good things that found their way to his master's plate.
By this time there was a good deal of laughing and talking round the
festive board. The baron, though very timid, and much embarrassed, had
ventured to enter into conversation with his fair neighbours. The pedant
and the tyrant were loudly discussing the respective merits of tragedy
and comedy. Leander, like Narcissus of old, was complacently admiring
his own charms as reflected in a little pocket mirror he always had
about him. Strange to say he was not a suitor of either Serafina's or
Isabelle's; fortunately for them he aimed higher, and was always hoping
that some grand lady, who saw him on the stage, would fall violently in
love with him, and shower all sorts of favours upon him.
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