"You're off on your travels! Off on your travels,
To fame and fortune in another land!
To wait and work, Frank! Wait and work, Frank!
Ere you gain your own Min's hand!"
And, perhaps, it was from the recollection of Monsieur Parole
d'Honneur's kindness, and from my having been in company with him that
winter in Paris, where I had heard that opera of Offenbach's for the
first time, but the tune of the carriage wheels was strangely like the
"Pars pour Crete" chorus in the second act of _La Belle Helene_--where,
if you remember, the unfortunate Menelaus is hustled off the stage, in
company with his portly umbrella and other belongings, in order to make
room for the advent of Paris, the "gay deceiver," the successful
intriguant!
Although my thoughts were wrapped up in memories of Min and her parting,
hopeful words, and my inner eyes still saw her standing at the window,
waving her handkerchief to me in mute adieu, my outward vision was
keenly watchful of each landpoint the train hurried by.