“He! Impossible!”
“Why impossible, fair sceptic?” cried Harley, interrupting himself in the midst of a speech to Jemima.
Violante had not dreamed that she could be overheard—she was speaking low; but, though visibly embarrassed, she answered distinctly,
“Because in England there is the noblest career for noble minds.”
Harley was startled, and replied, with a slight sigh, “At your age I should have said as you do. But this England of ours is so crowded with noble minds that they only jostle each other, and the career is one cloud of dust.”
“So, I have read, seems a battle to a common soldier, but not to the chief.”
“You have read good descriptions of battles, I see.”
Mrs. Riccabocca, who thought this remark a taunt upon her step-daughter’s studies, hastened to Violante’s relief.
“Her papa made her read the history of Italy, and I believe that is full of battles.”
HARLEY.—“All history is, and all women are fond of war and of warriors. I wonder why?”