ow can I go on with my story, if I hold my peace?

_Scip._ I mean go on with it in one piece, and don't hang on so many
tails to it as to make it look like a polypus.

_Berg._ Speak correctly, Scipio: one does not say the tails but the arms
of a polypus. But to my story: my evil fortune, not content with having
torn me from my studies, and from the calm and joyous life I led amid
them; not content with having fastened me up behind a door, and
transferred me from the liberality of the students to the stinginess of
the negress, resolved to rob me of the little ease and comfort I still
enjoyed. Look ye, Scipio, you may set it down with me for a certain
fact, that ill luck will hunt out and find the unlucky one, though he
hides in the uttermost parts of the earth. I have reason to say this;
for the negress was in love with a negro, also belonging to the house,
who slept in the porch between the street-door and the inner one behind
which I was fastened, and they could only meet at night, to which end
they had stolen the keys or got false ones. Every night the negress came
down stairs, and stopping my mouth with a piece of meat or cheese,
opened the door for the negro. For some days, the woman's bribes kept my
conscience asleep; for but for them, I began to fear that my ribs would
come together, and that I should be changed from a mastiff to a
greyhound. But my better nature coming at last to my aid, I bethought me
of what was due to my master, whose bread I ate; and that I ought to act
as becomes not only honest dogs, but all who have masters to serve.

_Scip._ There now, Berganza, you have spoken what I call true
philosophy; but go on. Do not make too long a yarn--not to say tail of
your history.

_Berg._ But, first of all, pray tell me if you know what is the meaning
of the word philosophy? For though I use it, I do not know what the
thing really is, only I guess that it is something good.

_Scip._ I will tell you briefly. The word is compounded of two Greek
words, _philo_, love, and _sophia_, wisdom; so that it means love of
wisdom, and philosopher a lover of wisdom.

_Berg._ What a deal you know, Scipio. Who the deuce taught you Greek
words?

_Scip._ Truly you are a simpleton, Berganza, to make so much of a matter
that is known to every schoolboy; indeed, there are many persons who
pretend to know Greek, though they are ignorant of it, just as is the
case with Latin.

_Berg._ I believe it, Scipio; and I would ha