“Be it so,” said Lord Selby: “he 'll see his mistake some time or other, and perhaps regret it. Where shall it be?—and when?”
“At the Fossombroni Villa, about two miles from this. To-morrow morning, at eight, if that suit you.”
“Quite well. I have no other appointment. Pistols, of course?”
“You have the choice, otherwise my friend would have preferred the sword.”
“Take him at his word, Selby,” whispered Baynton; “you are equal to any of them with the rapier.”
“If your friend desire the sword, I have no objection,—I mean the rapier.”
“The rapier be it,” said the Frenchman; and with a polite assurance of the infinite honor he felt in forming their acquaintance, and the gratifying certainty that they were sure to possess of his highest consideration, he bowed, backed, and withdrew.
“Well-mannered fellow, the Frenchman,” said Baynton, as the door closed; and the other nodded assent, and rang the bell for dinner.