With his usual presence of mind the noble lord seized hold of both the pistols, and said to his astonished countryman, “Do me the justice, sir, to go into that summer-house, shut the door, and let me have two shots at you; then we shall be upon equal terms, and I shall be quite at your service to give or receive the satisfaction of a gentleman.”
There was an air of drollery and of superiority in his manner which at once struck and pleased the Hibernian. “Upon my conscience, sir, I believe you are a very honest fellow,” said he, looking him earnestly in the face, “and I have a great mind to shake hands with you. Will you only just tell me who you are?”
The nobleman told his name—a name dear to every Briton and every Irishman.
“I beg your pardon, and that’s what no man ever accused me of doing before,” cried the gallant Hibernian; “and had I known who you were, I would as soon have shot my own soul as have fired at the door. But how could I tell who was withinside?”
“That is the very thing of which I complain,” said his lordship.
His candid opponent admitted the justice of the complaint as soon as he understood it, and he promised never more to be guilty of such a practical bull.