“I know,” said he, “that you are in love with Redegonde, and have long tried vainly to obtain her; now I am willing to exchange her for Agatha, and all I want to know is what sum of money you want over and above?”
“You are very good, my dear lord, but to determine the excess of value would require a good mathematician. Redegonde is all very well, and inspires me with curiosity, but what is she compared to Agatha?”
“I know, I know, and I therefore offer you any sum you like to mention.”
Percy was very rich, and very passionate. I am sure that if I had named twenty-five thousand guineas as overplus, or rather as exchange—for I did not care for Redegonde—he would have said done. However, I did not, and I am glad of it. Even now, when a hundred thousand francs would be a fortune to me, I never repent of my delicacy.
After we had breakfasted merrily together, I told him that I liked him well, but that in the first place it would be well to ascertain whether the two commodities would consent to change masters.
“I am sure of Redegonde’s consent,” said Lord Percy.
“But I am not at all sure of Agatha’s,” said I.
“Why not?”
“I have very strong grounds for supposing that she would not consent to the arrangement. What reasons have you for the contrary opinion?”
“She will shew her sense.”