“You would challenge the man who insulted you?”
“Of course.”
“Aha, doctor—aha, Martha,” said my father in triumph. “Do you hear? Even Tilling, who is no friend of war, submits to, and is a friend of, duelling.”
“A friend? I have never said so. I only said that in a given case I would, as a matter of course, have recourse to the duel, as indeed I have actually done once or twice: just as, equally as a matter of course, I have several times taken part in a war; and will do so again on the next occasion. I guide myself by the rules of honour; but I by no means imply thereby that those rules, as they now exist amongst us, correspond to my own moral ideal. By degrees, as this ideal gains the sovereignty, the conception of honour will also experience a change. Some day an insult one may have experienced, and which is unprovoked, will redound as a disgrace, not on the receiver, but on the savage inflicter; and when this is the case, self-revenge in matters of honour also will fall as much out of use as in civilised society it has become practically out of the question to right oneself in other matters. Till that time comes——”
“Well, we shall have some time to wait for that,” my father broke in. “As long as there are persons of quality anywhere——”
“But that too may not perhaps be for ever,” hinted the doctor.
“Holloa! you would not get rid of rank, Mr. Radical?” cried my father.
“Well, I would, of feudal rank. The future has no need for ‘nobility’.”
“So much the more need for noble men,” said Frederick in confirmation.
“And this new race will put up with their slaps on the face?”