“‘Fear,’ sir! Fear catches kicks, not kisses. ‘Not get a girl to have you!’ Well, upon my soul! Why don’t you run after her and bawl like a baby for her to stop, whilst you get down on your knees and—get her to have you!”
Jeff was too dejected to be stung even by this unexpected attack. He merely said, dolorously:
“Well, how the deuce can it be done?”
“Make her, sir—make her,” cried the Major. “Coerce her—compel her.” The old fellow was in his element. He shook his grizzled head, and brought his hollowed hands together with sounding emphasis.
Jeff suggested that perhaps she might be impregnable, but the old fellow affirmed that no woman was this; that no fortress was too strong to be carried; that it all depended on the assailant and the vehemence of the assault; and if one did not succeed, another would. The young man brightened. His mentor, however, dashed his rising hopes by saying: “But mark this, sir, no coward can succeed. Women are rank cowards themselves, and they demand courage in their conquerors. Do you think a woman will marry a man who trembles before her? By Jove, sir! He must make her tremble!”
Jeff admitted dubiously that this sounded like wisdom. The Major burst out, “Wisdom, sir! It is the wisdom of Solomon, who had a thousand wives!”
From this time the Major constituted himself Jeff’s ally, and was ready to take the field on his behalf against any and all comers. Therefore, when he came into the hall one day when Rose was at the piano, running her fingers idly over the keys, whilst Lawrence was leaning over her talking, he exclaimed:
“Hello! what treason’s this? I’ll tell Jeff. He was consulting me only yesterday about—”
Lawrence muttered an objurgation; but Rose wheeled around on the piano-stool and faced him.
—“Only yesterday about the best mode of winning—” He stopped tantalizingly.