“He may, but I don’t,” returned Frere shortly.
“My dear Frere, I wish I could make you understand that the affair is serious. Rasper’s determined to have you out. I can make no impression upon him, and you can’t refuse to meet a man after pitching him over the banisters,” rejoined Bracy in a tone of annoyance.
“Can’t I, though?” returned Frere, smiling. “I’m not of such a yielding disposition as you imagine. Where is the sweet youth?”
“I left him in the cloak-room,” answered Bracy; and as Frere immediately turned to descend the stairs, continued, “ ’Pon my word, you’d better not go near him: he’s especially savage. Depend upon it, you will have something disagreeable occur.”
“Do you think I’m going to be forced into fighting a duel, a sin of the first magnitude in my eyes, because I’m afraid of meeting an angry boy? You don’t know me yet,” returned Frere sternly; and without waiting further parley he ran downstairs, followed by Bracy, with a face of the most comic perplexity. The door of the cloak-room stood half open, and at the further end of the apartment might be perceived the outraged Rasper, pacing up and down like a caged lion, “nursing his wrath to keep it warm.” Unintimidated even by this tremendous spectacle, Frere coolly entered the room, and immediately walked up to his late antagonist, holding out his hand.
“Come, Mr. Rasper,” he said, “this has been a foolish business altogether, and the sooner we mutually forget it the better. Here’s my hand: let’s be friends.”
That this was a mode of procedure on which Mr. Rasper had not calculated was evident, as well by his extreme embarrassment as by his appearing completely at a loss what course to pursue. For a moment he seemed half inclined to accept Frere’s proffered hand; but his eye fell upon Bracy, and probably recalling the threats he had breathed forth in the hearing of that worthy individual, he felt that his dignity was at stake; and giving himself a shake to re-arouse his indignation, he replied, “I shall do no such thing, sir. You have grossly insulted me, and I demand satisfaction.”
“Excuse me,” returned Frere quietly, “I did not insult you: I simply would not allow you to insult me; no man worthy of the name would.”
“It’s no use jangling about it, like a couple of women, I consider that you have insulted me: what you may think matters nothing to me. I have been insulted, I require satisfaction, and I mean to have it too,” reiterated Mr. Rasper, talking himself into a passion.
“Now, listen to me,” returned Frere impressively. “You are a younger man than I am, and have probably, therefore, more of life before you. You are of an age and temperament to enjoy life vividly. There are many that love you; I can answer for three, for I met your mother and two sisters at Lord Ambergate’s a fortnight since, and the kind creatures entertained me for half-an-hour with your praises. Why, then, seek to throw away your own life and embitter theirs, or bring upon your head the guilt of homicide, entailing banishment from your home and country, and other evil consequences, merely because, having drunk a few extra glasses of wine, you sought to play off a practical joke upon me, and I, not being at the moment in a jesting humour, retaliated upon you, as you, or any other man of spirit, would have done in my situation? Come, look at it in a common sense point of view: is this a cause for which to lose a life or take one?”