“They treat them as they elect to be treated. We have a saying that as one makes one’s bed, so one must lie on it.”
“It is a noble creed!” cried the girl derisively. “It is the Pharisee speaking in English.”
“Nay, mademoiselle. It is to be vertebrate, that is all. To condone evil on the score of provocation to evil, to excuse it on the ground of constitutional tendency—that is the first infirmity of declining races.”
She looked at him mockingly, then fell into a little musing fit.
“Perhaps it is the right point of view,” she murmured; “but for us—mon Dieu! our eyes will get bloodshot and our vision obscured, and—yes, I would rather die of fire than of frost.”
She turned upon him, still pondering.
“It is strange. They say you are a great lord in your own country.”
“I am nephew to one, and his heir.”
“And is he like you?”
Ned permitted himself a snigger.