Car. Will you believe me when I tell you that—I have loved?
Mat. Oh yes!
Car. And that I have been loved in return?
Mat. Well, ye—es. Oh yes; it’s possible.
Car. He was a poet-soldier, fighting the Paynim foe in India’s burning clime—a glorious songster, who swept the lute with one hand, while he sabred the foe with the other!
Mat. Was he in the band?
Car. The band! He was a major-general! (Rises.)
Mat. Oh! Handsome?
Car. I know not. I never saw him.
Mat. Ye never saw him?