Had M. d’Henriel the right to possess it? and, having that, had he the right to wear it at his breast?
Beauchamp was dragged into the discussion of the case.
Renée waited curiously for his judgement.
Pleading an apology for the stormy weather, which had detained him, and for his ignorance that so precious an article was at stake, he held, that by the terms of the wager, the glove was lost; the claim to wear it was a matter of taste.
“Matters of taste, monsieur, are not, I think, decided by weapons in your country?” said M. d’Orbec.
“We have no duelling,” said Beauchamp.
The Frenchman imagined the confession to be somewhat humbling, and generously added, “But you have your volunteers—a magnificent spectacle of patriotism and national readiness for defence!”
A shrewd pang traversed Beauchamp’s heart, as he looked back on his country from the outside and the inside, thinking what amount of patriotic readiness the character of the volunteering signified, in the face of all that England has to maintain. Like a politic islander, he allowed the patriotic spectacle to be imagined; reflecting that it did a sort of service abroad, and had only to be unmasked at home.
“But you surrendered the glove, marquise!” The baronne d’Orbec spoke judicially.
“I flung it to the ground: that made it neutral,” said Renée.