“Then to begin. You asked me what I should do if I were to gain my suit; and my answer is, if I were not morally certain to gain it, I 'd never exhibit myself in the absurd position of planning a life I was never to arrive at.”
“You are too much a Frenchman for that.”
“Precisely, madame. I am too much a Frenchman for that. The exquisite sensibility to ridicule puts a very fine edge on national character, though your countrymen will not admit it.”
“It makes very tetchy acquaintances,” said she, with a malicious laugh.
“And develops charming generosity in those who forgive us!”
“I cry off. I can't keep up this game of give and take flatteries. Let us come back to what we were talking of,—that is, if either of us can remember it. Oh, yes, I know it now. You were going to tell me the splendid establishment you 'd keep at Castello. I 'm sure the cook will leave nothing to desire,—but how about the stable? That 'steppere' will not exactly be in his place in an Irish county.”
“Madame, you forget I was a lieutenant of hussars.”
“My dear Count, that does not mean riding.”
“Madame!”
“I should now rise and say 'Monsieur!' and it would be very good comedy after the French pattern; but I prefer the sofa and my ease, and will simply beg you to remember the contract we made the other day,—that each was to be at liberty to say any impertinence to the other, without offence being taken.”