CHAPTER XI
IN WHICH FISTS ARE CLENCHED; AND OF A SELFISH MAN, WHO WAS AN
APOSTLE OF PEACE
Conversation, though in itself a blessed and delightful thing, yet
may be sometimes out of place, and wholly impertinent. If wine is a
loosener of tongues, surely food is the greatest, pleasantest, and
most complete silencer; for what man when hunger gnaws and food is
before him--what man, at such a time, will stay to discuss the
wonders of the world, of science--or even himself?
Thus our two young travellers, with a very proper respect for the
noble fare before them, paid their homage to it in silence--but a
silence that was eloquent none the less. At length, however, each
spoke, and each with a sigh.
_The Viscount_. "The ham, my dear fellow--!"
_Barnabas_. "The beef, my dear Dick--!"
_The Viscount and Barnabus_. "Is beyond words."
Having said which, they relapsed again into a silence, broken only
by the occasional rattle of knife and fork.
_The Viscount_ (hacking at the loaf). "It's a grand thing to be hungry,
my dear fellow."
_Barnabas_ (glancing over the rim of his tankard). "When you have the
means of satisfying it--yes.
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