any thing so disagreeable; but I think it will be but decent to kiss hands, take leave, and all that sort of thing, before we set out for Madrid: besides, it may be as well to make some kind of provision as to what is to become of them in our absence."
"Then you will not take them with you?" said Edric, despondingly.
"Who ever heard of such a thing?" cried Roderick; "How could I possibly ask the lovely Pauline to endure the inconveniences of travelling with a camp? I really have not the assurance to attempt it."
Edric sighed deeply; and his countenance assumed an expression of so much melancholy that Roderick laughed immoderately: "I could not have believed it possible," cried he, "that you could ever become such a sighing Strephon; the thing's incredible!"
"The pain of my wounds," said Edric, blushing; for even philosophers don't like to be laughed at.
"The pain in your heart!" repeated Roderick, mimicking him. "But, come! come!
