By Rene Goscinny
Leader Vitalstatistix has rashly wager his brother-in-law, the infuriating show-off Homeopathix, that he can pay money for Caesar's laurel wreath to season a stew. in fact, now it truly is as much as Asterix and Obelix to visit Rome, locate the wreath, and produce it again for the promised dinner. Can they shop Vitalstatistix's honor?
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Additional info for Asterix and the Laurel Wreath (Asterix)
I breathed. I trembled. I watched her limp away with the Italian at her side. And suddenly I could see only her. The Italian began to disappear, becoming transparent; all the people walking along Reforma became transparent. All my aching eyes could make out was Elena, with her overcoat and her shoes. And then I thought: Resist, Elena. And then I thought: Catch up with her and give her a hug. But she was going off to live her last nights of love and I couldn't disturb her. After that I went for a long time without news of Elena.
Three And I, poor creature that I was, heard something like the sound of the wind when it drops and rustles through paper flowers, I heard a flowering of air and water, and lifted my feet (quietly) like a Renoir ballerina, as if I were about to give birth (and in a sense, in effect, I was preparing to deliver something and to be delivered myself), with my underpants around my skinny ankles like a pair of handcuffs, hooked on my shoes (a pair of very comfortable yellow moccasins I had at the time).
I was in the bathroom, in the lavatory on one of the floors of the faculty building, the fourth maybe, I'm not exactly sure. And I was sitting in a stall, with my skirt hitched up, as the poem says, or the song, reading the exquisite poetry of Pedro Garfias, who had already been dead for a year (Don Pedro Garfias, such a melancholy man, so sad about Spain and the world in general). Who could have imagined that I would be reading in the bathroom just when the damned riot police came into the university?