“And what are the Haiks?” I demanded.
“Very different from the Jews,” replied the Armenian; “the Haiks have a home—a country, and can occasionally use a good sword; though it is true they are not what they might be.”
“Then it is a shame that they do not become so,” said I; “but they are too fond of money. There is yourself, with two hundred thousand pounds in your pocket, craving for more, whilst you might be turning your wealth to the service of your country.”
“In what manner?” said the Armenian.
“I have heard you say that the grand oppressor of your country is the Persian; why not attempt to free your country from his oppression—you have two hundred thousand pounds, and money is the sinew of war?”
“Would you, then, have me attack the Persian?”
“I scarcely know what to say; fighting is a rough trade, and I am by no means certain that you are calculated for the scratch. It is not every one who has been brought up in the school of Mr. Petulengro and Tawno Chikno. All I can say is, that if I were an Armenian, and had two hundred thousand pounds to back me, I would attack the Persian.”
“Hem!” said the Armenian.
CHAPTER LI.
The One Half-Crown—Merit in Patience—Cementer of Friendship—Dreadful Perplexity—The Usual Guttural—Armenian Letters—Much Indebted to You—Pure Helplessness—Dumb People.