who wrote each of the three hundred treatises commemorated by Diogenes
Laertes."

"That's a lie!" said the metaphysician, for the wine had gotten a
little into his head.

"Very well! - very well, sir! - very well, indeed, sir!" said his
Majesty, apparently much flattered.

"That's a lie!" repeated the restaurateur, dogmatically; "that's a -
hiccup! - a lie!"

"Well, well, have it your own way!" said the devil, pacifically, and
Bon-Bon, having beaten his Majesty at argument, thought it his duty to
conclude a second bottle of Chambertin.

"As I was saying," resumed the visiter - "as I was observing a little
while ago, there are some very outre notions in that book of yours
Monsieur Bon-Bon. What, for instance, do you mean by all that humbug about
the soul? Pray, sir, what is the soul?"

"The - hiccup! - soul," replied the metaphysician, referring to his
MS., "is undoubtedly-"

"No, sir!"

"Indubitably-"

"No, sir!"