“A few, and a very few,” said Paul, with a well-assumed air of humility. “Nature has blessed me with the very best of tempers. I am never rash, hasty, or impetuous; I accept the rubs of life with submission; I think well of every one.”
“Do you, faith!” exclaimed Davis, with a scornful laugh.
“Knowing well that we are all slaves of circumstances, I take motives where others demand actions, just as I would take a bill at three months from him who has no cash. It may be paid, or it may not.”
“You'd have passed it ere it became due, eh, Master Paul?”
“Such is possible; I make no claims above human frailty.”
“Is sobriety amongst your other virtues?”
“I rarely transgress its limits, save when alone. It is in the solitary retirement where I seek reflection that I occasionally indulge. There I am, so to say, 'Classo cum Classone.' I offer no example to others,—I shock no outward decorum. If the instinctive appreciation of my character—which I highly possess—passes that of most men, I owe it to those undisguised moments when I stand revealed to myself. Wine keeps no secrets; and Paul Classon drunk appeals to Paul Classon sober. Believe me, Kit, when I tell you no man knows half the excellent things in his own heart till he has got tipsy by himself!”
“I wish I had never thought of you for this affair,” said Davis, angrily.
“Pitt made the same speech to Wolfe, and yet that young general afterwards took Quebec.”
“What do I care about Wolfe or Quebec? I want a particular service that a man of moderate brains and a firm purpose can accomplish.”