A heated but brief quarrel between D’Orsay and Mathews gives us a glimpse of the former’s hot temper. The two had become constant comrades, fencing, shooting, swimming, riding, drawing together.
Blessington had formed the habit of boring the party by insisting on their accompanying him on sailing trips aboard the Bolivar, his purchase from Byron, which expeditions had more than once culminated in their being becalmed for hours and overwhelmed with heat and ennui. One sultry morning when Blessington suggested a sail, they with one consent began to make excuses, good and bad: the ladies were afraid of the sun; D’Orsay said a blunt “No,” and Mathews was anxious to complete a sketch. To which last Lord Blessington remarked—
“As you please. I only hope you will really carry out your intention; for even your friend Count d’Orsay says that you carry your sketch-book with you everywhere, but that you never bring back anything in it.”
Possibly there was an element of truth in the criticism; at any rate it struck home.
It was apparently a somewhat sulky party that went a-driving that afternoon; two charming women and two ill-humoured young men. Suddenly, without any further provocation, Mathews burst out—
“I have to thank you, Count d’Orsay, for the high character you have given me to Lord Blessington, with regard to my diligence.”
“Comment?” responded D’Orsay.
“I should have been more gratified had you mentioned to me, instead of to his lordship, anything you might have—”
“Vous êtes un mauvais blagueur, par Dieu, la plus grande bête et blagueur que j’ai jamais rencontré, et la première fois que vous me parlez comme ça, je vous casserai la tête et je vous jetterai par la fenêtre.”
Indubitably ill-temper, of which we know not the cause, had made the Count forget his manners; Mathews rightly kept silent, reserving the continuation of the quarrel for a future and more proper occasion, and Lady Blessington aided him by the rebuke—