Little Poems in Prose

tle more emotion than if I had dropped my vis- iting card in the course of a walk. For a long time we smoked cigars whose in- comparable flavour and aroma gave both homesickness and craving for joys yet undis- covered to the soul; and, intoxicated with all these delights, I had the audacity to cry, in an access of familiarity which did not seem to dis- please him, as I clutched a brimming cup,—”To your immortal health, old goat!” We talked also of the Universe, of its crea- tion and its future destruction; of the great idea of this century—I mean Progress and Per- fectibility—and in general of every form of hu- man infatuation. On that subject His Highness was inexhaustible in light and unanswerable jests, and expressed himself in a suavity of speech and a calm in jest-making that I have never found in any of the most famous of mor- tal talkers. He explained to me the absurdity of the different philosophies that have till now ob- sessed the human brain, and condescended even to confide to me some fundamental prin- ciples whose advantages and propriety it is in- convenient to discuss with the first-comer. He did not at all complain of the bad reputation which he enjoyed in every part of the world, and assured me that he himself was the person most interested of all in the destruction of su-