“In consideration of certain mental endowments which it is unnecessary to specify, and in further consideration of one thousand louis d’or, I being aged one year and one month, do hereby make over to the bearer of this agreement all my right, title, and appurtenance in the shadow called my soul. (Signed) A. …” (Here His Majesty repeated a name which I did not feel justified in indicating more unequivocally.)
“A clever fellow that,” resumed he; “but like you, Monsieur Bon-Bon, he was mistaken about the soul. The soul a shadow, truly! The soul a shadow; Ha! ha! ha!—he! he! he!—hu! hu! hu! Only think of a fricasséed shadow!”
“ Only think—hiccup!—of a fricasséed shadow!” exclaimed our hero, whose faculties were becoming much illuminated by the profundity of his Majesty’s discourse.
“Only think of a hiccup!—fricasséed shadow!! Now, damme!—hiccup!—humph! If I would have been such a—hiccup!—nincompoop! My soul, Mr. —humph!”
“ Your soul, Monsieur Bon-Bon?”
“Yes, sir—hiccup!— my soul is—”
“What, sir?”
“ No shadow, damme!”
“Did you mean to say—”
“Yes, sir, my soul is—hiccup!—humph!—yes, sir.”
“Did you not intend to assert—”