Falling off the horse disabled him.

The truth is, unless a man can get the prestige and income of a Don and write donnish books, it’s hardly worth while for him to make a Greek and Latin machine of himself and be able to spin you out pages of the Greek dramatists at any verse you’ll give him as a cue.

[…] they amused themselves by decorating the house with the bright curtainings that Annie had brought, and putting up shelves for a few pieces of china.

O that thou hadst believ’d me! Yester evening Did we conjure thee not to let that skulker, That fox, Octavio, pass the gates of Pilsen. Thou gav’st him thy own horses to flee from thee.