"Take care, William," answered Algernon Grey, "that your vanities don't get you into worse than this."
"Heaven and earth listen to the man!" exclaimed William Lovet, laughing. "Think of his preaching decorum to me! Did I not tell you long ago, Algernon, that your vices were much more serious ones than mine? Here, instead of bowing down and worshipping the embroidered hem of some fair lady's petticoat, the very first thing you do in a strange country is, to go and cut a poor man's throat. Now, I will ask you fairly and candidly, which is the worst, to amuse an hour or two in giving and receiving pleasure; or to spend your time like a wild cat in a holly bush, scratching your neighbour's heart out?--The thing won't bear an argument, cousin of mine. I am the moral and well-regulated young man; and you are the reprobate."
"I only cut another man's throat, as you call it, William, in defence of my own life," replied Algernon Grey; "but, of all men, you should be the last to find fault with such a transaction. Methinks I have heard of some six or seven of such affairs upon your hands."
"Ay, but I never begin with fighting," answered Lovet; "when driven to such extremities, I can't help it. I always commence with love and affection; and, if it end with hate and naked rapiers, it is no fault of mine. And so you pinked this Oberntraut! Why, you deserve thanks for that, too. Really it was a public service; if he die, there will be one bubble less upon the stream of the world; and, if he recover, the bleeding and the lesson will do him an immense deal of good. 'Tis a pity it was not in the spring; for that is the time, the doctors say, to let blood."
"Pray, do not jest upon the subject, my good cousin," answered Algernon Grey; "I went unwillingly on a quarrel not of my own seeking; I did what I scarcely judged right to save my honour; and I bitterly regret that I was forced to wound a gentleman, who was too skilful a swordsman to be disarmed. Let us talk of other things."
"Pooh!" said Lovet, "he's a coxcomb, and deserved it. If you had not done it, I would have done it for you.--But to talk of other things, as you say. The Elector can certainly mean you no harm by assigning you so pleasant a place for imprisonment. When you have got up your clothes and a few books, you will be as comfortable here as at the inn with a sprained ankle--more so; for you will want the pain. Then, my dear Algernon, you will be out of all temptation, which is a great thing in your case. Here you can neither drink, nor swear, nor game, nor make love; in short, you are now physically in the state, to which you voluntarily reduce yourself morally, and are cut off from all the little pleasures of life by that door, instead of a puritanical spirit.--I could myself be very comfortable here but for one thing. I have often thought, as I like to try every sort of emotion in this world, that I would make myself a voluntary prisoner for a few days, only I could never determine upon the gaol."
"And pray what is the one thing wanting in this sweet place?" asked Algernon Grey; "the one thing I want is liberty; but, I suppose, that is not what you mean?"
"Oh, dear no," cried Lovet, "I mean woman's company; I should require something sadly to play with, to teaze, to irritate, and to amuse myself with, as I would a petted child, and then to soothe her with soft caresses, and look into her liquid eyes, half full of tears, half light. Liberty! Pooh! liberty is nothing. I would sell myself for a sequin to a Turk, if he would but engage to imprison me in his harem. But, on my life! if I were shut up in a prison for any of my small misdemeanours, I would get some fair girl or another to come and entertain me at any price, were it but the gaoler's fat daughter."
Thus went he on for well nigh an hour, with gay, light, apparently thoughtless talk; but yet it was all calculated to produce a certain impression; and it must not be denied that, in a degree, it did so. He never mentioned the name of Agnes Herbert; he never alluded to her in the most remote manner; he spoke not of his cousin's gallant conduct on the preceding night; he seemed to be ignorant of all that had taken place, except the duel and the arrest. But yet his conversation turned Algernon's thoughts to Agnes, and made him long for her society. His words called up a pleasant dream of how she might cheer the hours of imprisonment, how, under other circumstances, she might make the sad and weary day the sweetest and the brightest of life. Algernon gave himself up to the dream too. As he had no substantial source of pleasure, he fancied he might as well console himself from the stores of imagination; and on Agnes his thoughts rested, fondly, tenderly, even while his cousin remained with him.
Lovet marked well the effect he produced; the meditative look, the occasional absence of mind, the random answer, and a sigh that once broke forth; and, when he thought he had succeeded sufficiently, he rose to go.