tween Virgil's shepherds," said Callery; "or, if you prefer it, it is a duet between Lablache and Mario."
"As for the duet," I replied, "in spite of my pacific instincts, I would rather assist at the duel you promised me."
My wishes were gratified that very moment. Two Chinese took down a couple of cages of bamboo, adorned inside with green leaves, two little palaces filled with silky herbs, and sat down before me. The two palaces contained Lablache and Mario, who were taken out and placed in a porcelain bowl. Lablache was just what I had fancied him from from harmonious testimony of his voice: his rounded paunch caused the segments of his cuirass to bulge out; his powerful forelegs were armed with hooked nails, and through his brown visor could be seen two arched tusks, which lifted up his lips. Mario, on the contrary, was slim and graceful; his black armour fitted tightly round his waist, and his tusks were completely concealed by his mask of steel.
The two insects endeavoured at first to escape, but the polished sides of the bowl formed an insuperable obstacle to their attempt. Accordingly, they took up their positions at the bottom of the bowl, where they would have probably remained at peace with one another, but for the intervention of Chinese perfidy. The two backers were each armed with a long straw, but in the hands of the wicked the most harmless weapon becomes for-
