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158
Adventures in Contentment
·
David Grayson
130
"What
on
earth
are
you
laughing
about?"
cries
Harriet
from
the
sitting-room.
When
I
have
caught
my
breath,
I
say,
holding
up
my
book:
"This
absurd
man
here
is
telling
of
the
adventures
of
a
certain
chivalrous
Knight."
"But
I
can't
see
how
you
can
laugh
out
like
that,
sitting
all
alone
there.
Why,
it's
uncanny."
"You
don't
know
the
Knight,
Harriet,
nor
his
squire
Sancho."
"You
talk
of
them
just
as
though
they
were
real
persons."
"Real!"
I
exclaim,
"real!
Why
they
are
much
more
real
than
most
of
the
people
we
know.
Horace
is
a
mere
wraith
compared
with
Sancho."
And
then
I
rush
out.
"Let
me
read
you
this,"
I
say,
and
I
read
that
matchless
chapter
wherein
the
Knight,
having
clapped
on
his
head
the
helmet
which
Sancho
has
inadvertently
used
as
a
receptacle
for
a
dinner
of
curds
and,
sweating
whey
profusely,
goes
forth
to
fight
two
fierce
lions.
As
I
proceed
with
that
prodigious
story,
I
can
see
Harriet
gradually
forgetting
her
sewing,
and
I
read
on
the
more
furiously
until,
coming
to
the
point
of
the
conflict
wherein
the
generous
and
gentle
lion,
having
yawned,
"threw
out
some
half
yard
of
tongue
wherewith
he
licked
and
washed
his
face,"
Harriet
begins
to
laugh.
"There!"
I
say
triumphantly.
Harriet
looks
at
me
accusingly.
"Such
foolishness!"
she
says.
"Why
should
any
man
in
his
senses
try
to
fight
caged
lions!"
"Harriet,"
I
say,
"you
are
incorrigible."
She
does
not
deign
to
reply,
so
I
return
with
meekness
to
my
room.
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