‘I see what you mean,’ said Amabel, thoughtfully.
‘More than I do,’ said Philip. ‘I never supposed you would take my advice “au pied de la lettre”,’ he had almost added, ‘perversely.’
‘I have felt my obligations for that caution ever since I have come to some knowledge of what Byron was,’ said Guy.
‘The fascination of his “Giaour” heroes has an evil influence on some minds,’ said Philip. ‘I think you do well to avoid it. The half truth, resulting from its being the effect of self-contemplation, makes it more dangerous.’
‘True,’ said Guy, though he little knew how much he owed to having attended to that caution, for who could have told where the mastery might have been in the period of fearful conflict with his passions, if he had been feeding his imagination with the contemplation of revenge, dark hatred, and malice, and identifying himself with Byron’s brooding and lowering heroes!
‘But,’ continued Philip, ‘I cannot see why you should shun the fine descriptions which are almost classical—the Bridge of Sighs, the Gladiator.’
‘He may describe the gladiator as much as he pleases,’ said Guy; ‘indeed there is something noble in that indignant line—
Butchered to make a Roman holiday;
but that is not like his meddling with these mountains or the sea.’
‘Fine description is the point in both. You are over-drawing.’