Helen (shaking her pretty head, and answering with a livelier smile than usual.)—"But I am not fond of war and warriors."
Harley (to Violante).—"Then I must appeal at once to you, self-convicted Bellona that you are. Is it from the cruelty natural to the female disposition?"
Violante (with a sweet musical laugh).—"From two propensities still more natural to it."
Harley.—"You puzzle me: what can they be?"
Violante.—"Pity and admiration; we pity the weak, and admire the brave."
Harley inclined his head and was silent.
Lady Lansmere had suspended her conversation with Riccabocca to listen to this dialogue. "Charming!" she cried. "You have explained what has often perplexed me. Ah, Harley, I am glad to see that your satire is foiled; you have no reply to that."
"No; I willingly own myself defeated—too glad to claim the Signorina's pity, since my cavalry sword hangs on the wall, and I can have no longer a professional pretense to her admiration."
He then rose, and glanced toward the window. "But I see a more formidable disputant for my conqueror to encounter is coming into the field—one whose profession it is to substitute some other romance for that of camp and siege."
"Our friend Leonard," said Riccabocca, turning his eye also toward the window. "True; as Quevedo says wittily, 'Ever since there has been so great a demand for type, there has been much less lead to spare for cannon-balls.'"