Crab: You mean, a normal pipe with a tiny tree in front of it!
Achilles: Oh, is that what it is? Well, in any case, when I first spotted it, I
was convinced I was smelling pipe smoke! Can you imagine how silly I
felt?
Crab: I quite understand. My guests are often taken in by that one.
(So saying, he reaches up, removes the pipe from behind the tree in the
painting, turns it over and taps it against the table, and the room begins to
reek of pipe tobacco. He begins packing in a new wad of tobacco.)
This is a fine old pipe, Achilles. Believe it or not, the bowl has a copper
lining, which makes it age wonderfully.
Achilles: A copper lining! You don't say!
Crab (pulls out a box of matches, and lights his pipe): Would you care for a
smoke, Achilles?
Achilles: No, thank you. I only smoke cigars now and then.
Crab: No problem! I have one right here! (Reaches out towards another
Magritte painting, featuring a bicycle mounted upon a lit cigar.)
Achilles: Uhh-no thank you, not now.
Crab: As you will. I myself am an incurable tobacco smoker. Which re-
minds me-you undoubtedly know of Old Bach's predilection for pipe
smoking?
Achilles: I don't recall exactly.
Crab: Old Bach was fond of versifying, philosophizing, pipe smoking, and
FIGURE 78. State of Grace, by Rene Magritte (1959).