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tesan; for, oh, ladies! there were Bombardas in Greece and in
Egypt. Apuleius tells us of them. Alas! always the same, and
nothing new; nothing more unpublished by the creator in
creation! Nil sub sole novum, says Solomon; amor omnibus
idem, says Virgil; and Carabine mounts with Carabin into
the bark at Saint-Cloud, as Aspasia embarked with Pericles
upon the fleet at Samos. One last word. Do you know what
Aspasia was, ladies? Although she lived at an epoch when
women had, as yet, no soul, she was a soul; a soul of a rosy
and purple hue, more ardent hued than fire, fresher than
the dawn. Aspasia was a creature in whom two extremes of
womanhood met; she was the goddess prostitute; Socrates
plus Manon Lescaut. Aspasia was created in case a mistress
should be needed for Prometheus.’
Tholomyes, once started, would have found some diffi-
culty in stopping, had not a horse fallen down upon the quay
just at that moment. The shock caused the cart and the ora-
tor to come to a dead halt. It was a Beauceron mare, old and
thin, and one fit for the knacker, which was dragging a very
heavy cart. On arriving in front of Bombarda’s, the worn-
out, exhausted beast had refused to proceed any further.
This incident attracted a crowd. Hardly had the cursing and
indignant carter had time to utter with proper energy the
sacramental word, Matin (the jade), backed up with a piti-
less cut of the whip, when the jade fell, never to rise again.
On hearing the hubbub made by the passersby, Tholomyes’
merry auditors turned their heads, and Tholomyes took ad-
vantage of the opportunity to bring his allocution to a close
with this melancholy strophe:—