"Why, excellent!" Mr. Hibbs tensed in astonishment. "'Why was it
Daedalus plied uninjured wings?'--mph, comes out in English as iambic
pentameter, bless me if it doesn't. Satisfactory, Reuben?"
"Yes, sir, I like that. 'Why was it Daedalus plied uninjured wings, but
Icarus marks with his name the enormous waves?'"
Out of a suspended hush, Mr. Hibbs sighed. "Benjamin, proceed. If
possible, without butterflies. Let us leave the butterflies to Reuben."
Reuben thought with care: _He means no harm by that, none at all...._
His eyes idly compelled the carved B--R to grow immense and blurred, and
he listened to Ben's voice:
"nempe quod hic alte, demissius ille volabat;
nam pennas ambo non habuere suas."
"Quantities correct, Benjamin. Construe."
"'Surely it was because Icarus flew high, and Daedalus lower; for both
wore wings that were not their own.'"
"Eh, Benjamin, doing uncommon well today. High time of course--I am not
prepared to consider this the millennium." Mr. Hibbs could seldom bear
to leave a compliment undiluted. "Well, gentlemen, I suggest to you,
these particular lines are something more than an exercise in grammar
and prosody. I think, no more of the _Tristia_ today. Your grammars if
you please--this afternoon it shall be Cicero of course."
"Sir"--startled, Reuben saw his brother rising, not quite knocking over
his little desk--"sir, may I ask a favor?"