'I saw you perform last night,' answered Stuart, 'but, to say the truth, I do not recollect your name.'
'My name is Norval on the Grampian Hills,' cried his lordship.
'Sir,' said Stuart, 'though we sometimes laugh at you, even in your grave characters, the part you have now chosen seems much too serious for drollery. Allow me to ask, Sir, by what right you feel entitled to call yourself the protector of this lady?'
'First inform me,' said Montmorenci, 'by what right you feel entitled to put that question?'
'By the right of friendship,' answered Stuart.
'No, but enmity,' cried I, 'unprovoked, unprincipled, inexorable enmity. This is the Stuart whom you have often heard me mention, as my persecutor; and I hope you will now make him repent of his temerity.'
'Sir,' said his lordship, 'I desire you to leave the house.'
'Not till you favour me with your company,' replied Stuart; 'for I find I must have some serious conversation with you.'
'Beshrew my heart!' cried Lord Altamont Mortimer Montmorenci, 'if you want satisfaction, follow me this moment. I am none of your slovenly, slobbering shots. Damme, I scorn to pistol a gentleman about the ankles. I can teach the young idea how to shoot, damme.'
He spoke, and strode out of the room.