'You do not love me any longer, I see that,' said Cadurcis.
'Yes I do, Plantagenet.'
'You do not love me so much as you did the night before I went to Eton, and we sat over the fire? Ah! how often I have thought of that night when I was at Athens!' he added in a tone of emotion.
'Dear Plantagenet,' said Venetia, 'do not be silly. I am in the highest spirits in the world; I am quite gay with happiness, and all because you have returned. Do not spoil my pleasure.'
'Ah, Venetia! I see how it is; you have forgotten me, or worse than forgotten me.'
'Well, I am sure I do not know what to say to satisfy you,' said
Venetia. 'I think you very unreasonable, and very ungrateful too, for
I have always been your friend, Plantagenet, and I am sure you know
it. You sent me a message before you went abroad.'
'Darling!' said Lord Cadurcis, seizing her hand, 'I am not ungrateful, I am not unreasonable. I adore you. You were very kind then, when all the world was against me. You shall see how I will pay them off, the dogs! and worse than dogs, their betters far; dogs are faithful. Do you remember poor old Marmion? How we were mystified, Venetia! Little did we think then who was Marmion's godfather.'
Venetia smiled; but she said, 'I do not like this bitterness of yours, Plantagenet. You have no cause to complain of the world, and you magnify a petty squabble with a contemptible coterie into a quarrel with a nation. It is not a wise humour, and, if you indulge it, it will not be a happy one.'
'I will do exactly what you wish on every subject, said Cadurcis, 'if you will do exactly what I wish on one.'
'Well!' said Venetia.