"Certainly, certainly," replied the bishop, hastily. "He is of the highest breeding, and in his youth he fenced like a fencing-master."
"Then he understands the code of honour, sare the bishop?"
"Absolutely, for a dean," replied his lordship.
"Then I agree, sir lord," cried Rivaulx.
"Ha, we will go to his house, then," said the bishop, "if you will step over this railing. But stop here one moment and observe the moon rising over Mr. Dean's cathedral. Is it not a peaceful, pleasant spot, gentlemen?"
"It beats thunder," said Plant.
"It does, it does," nodded his lordship. "Many Americans, who admire this cathedral immensely, have made the same acute observation. May I ask your names, gentlemen? I am the bishop of this diocese."
"My name is Plant, Rufus Q. Plant, and my friend is the Marquis of Rivaulx."
"Indeed," returned the bishop, "is the gentleman the French nobleman who is interested in balloons?"
"Yes," said Plant.