"What are you reading, sir?" he asked him at last.
"'Euripides,' sir," Diavolo answered, glancing over the top of his book for a moment as he spoke. "I'm just where Hippolytus exclaims: 'O Jove! wherefore indeed didst thou place in the light of the sun that specious evil to men—woman?'"
"Are you reading 'Euripides' with a 'Key'?" his grandfather asked sternly.
"No, I am reading a key to 'Euripides,'" Diavolo answered,
"Don't you know your Greek, sir?" his grandfather demanded.
"I'm just looking to see, sir," Diavolo rejoined, returning to his book.
When he had finished the page, he looked up at his grandfather, who was sitting with his hands folded upon a large volume he held open on his knee, meditating, apparently.
"Beastly bad tone about women in the Classics," Diavolo remarked; "don't you think so, sir?"
"Ah, my boy, you don't know women yet!" the old duke responded.
"Then I've not made the most of my opportunities," Diavolo said with a grin, "for we meet with a fine variety in the houses about here! But what I object to in these classical chaps," he resumed, "is the way they sneaked and snivelled about women's faults, as if they had none of their own! and then their mean trick of going back upon the women, and reproaching them with their misfortunes."