your share, you fellow! What is the meaning of all those leaps? Now we are going up hill. In Albano we shall stop two whole hours: they have good oats there, and a roomy stable. Ah! we have a long way to go before we can rest to-night.
Pegasus.—Now we are in Albano. There is a house which we shall pass close by, in the street; it is low, only two stories high, and very small. The door opens at this moment, a man in a hunter’s dress comes forth; he has pale cheeks and intensely black eyes; it is Don Miguel, the ex-king of Portugal. Anybody could make a poem about that. Listen, you two poets there in the carriage! But no, they don’t hear! One of them is making himself agreeable to the lady, and the other is busying his thoughts about a tragedy
The Post-horses.—Now we have been fed; let us get ready to set out. It is a long stage up-hill and down. Don’t stop looking at that stone, it is the grave of the Horatii—but it is an old story. Now, go along!
Pegasus.—What splendid trees! What luxuriant evergreens! The road lies deep
