and ignoring them with the utmost possible celerity. It never made any one tremble, though now and then it perhaps made irritable people murmur an imprecation or two. You might have supposed from Benvolio's manner, when he was in good humour (which was the greater part of the time), from his brilliant, intelligent glance, from his easy, irresponsible step,
and in especial from the sweet, clear, lingering, caressing tone of his voice
the voice as it were of a man
whose fortune has been made for him, and who assumes, a trifle egotistically, that the rest of the world is equally at leisure to share with him the sweets of life, to pluck the wayside flowers, and chase the
butterflies
afield you might have supposed, I say,
from all this luxurious assurance of demeanour, that our hero really had the wishing-cap sitting invisible on his handsome brow, or was obliged only to close his knuckles together a moment to exert an effective pressure upon the magic ring. The young man, I have said, was a mixture of inconsistencies ; I may say more exactly that he was a tissue of contradictions. He did possess the magic ring, in a certain fashion ; he possessed in other words the poetic imagination. Everything that fancy could do for
