“I believe, my Lord, that I can save you all speculation on the subject when I say that pursuit would be hopeless there. The Midchekoff has gained the start, and must win in a canter.”
“That Tartar fellow! nonsense, man; I know better than that. He 'll never marry anything under royalty; the fellow's mother was a serf, and he must wash that spot out of his blood whenever he can.”
“You are mistaken, my Lord. He only waits to be certain of being accepted, to offer himself.”
“Refuse him!” said Norwood, laughing, “there's not that girl in Europe would refuse him. If every decoration he wore on his breast were a stripe of the knout upon his back, his wealth would cover all.”
“The Prince would give half his fortune to be assured of all you say, my Lord,” said Jekyl, gravely.
“By Jove! one might make a good thing of it, even that way,” said Norwood, half aloud. “I say, Jekyl,” added he, louder, “how much are you to have? nay, nay, man, there 's no impertinence in the question, we are both too much men of the world for that. It 's quite clear that this is your scheme. Now, what 's the damage?”
“My Lord, you are as flattering to my abilities as unjust to my character.”
“We 'll suppose all that said,” broke in Norwood, impatiently; “and now we come back to the original question, whether I cannot afford to be as liberal as the Russian. Only be explicit, and let us understand each other.”
“My Lord, I will not insult myself by believing I comprehend you;” said Jekyl, calmly.
And before Norwood could detain him he left the room.