“Not from his perception of the want,” said I.
“Again! again!” said Mrs. O’Connor, with an insulting tone of surprise; “Lord Glenthorn’s quite witty this evening.”
Lady Geraldine looked as if she were fully sensible of the want of politeness in Mrs. O’Connor’s mode of praising. “But, my lord,” pursued she, “you wrong Captain Andrews, if you attribute his monosyllabic replies either to stupidity or timidity. You have not guessed the reason why he never gives on any subject more than half an opinion.”
“It was in the diplomatic school he was taught that art,” said Mr. Devereux.
“You must know,” pursued Lady Geraldine, “that Captain Andrews is only an aide-de-camp till a diplomatic situation can be found for him; and to do him justice, he has been so well trained in the diplomatic school, that he will not hazard an assertion on any subject; he is not certain of any thing, not even of his own identity.”
“He assuredly wants,” said Devereux, “the only proof of existence which Descartes would admit—I think, therefore I am.”
“He has such a holy horror of committing himself,” continued Lady Geraldine, “that if you were to ask him if the sun rose this morning, he would answer, with his sweet smile—So I am told—or—So I am informed.”
“Begging your ladyship’s pardon,” cried Mr. Devereux, “that is much too affirmative. In the pure diplomatic style, impersonal verbs must ever be used in preference to active or passive. So I am told, lays him open to the dangerous questions, Who told you? or, By whom were you informed? Then he is forced into the imprudence of giving up his authorities; whereas he is safe in the impersonality of So it is said, or So it is reported.”
“How I should like to see a meeting between two perfectly finished diplomatists!” cried Lady Geraldine.
“That is demonstrably impossible,” said Mr. Devereux; “for in certain political, as well as in certain geometrical lines, there is a continual effort to approach, without a possibility of meeting.”