those repeated previous assurances that, did they
tell all, they could hang each other all round.

What can there be finer than forgiveness? What more rational than, after
calling a man by every bad name under the sun, to apologise, regret
hasty expressions, and so forth, withdraw the decanter (say) which you
have flung at your enemy's head, and be friends as before? Some folks
possess this admirable, this angellike gift of forgiveness. It was
beautiful, for instance, to see our two ladies at Tunbridge Wells
forgiving one another, smiling, joking, fondling almost in spite of
the hard words of yesterday--yes, and forgetting bygones, though they
couldn't help remembering them perfectly well. I wonder, can you and I
do as much? Let us strive, my friend, to acquire this pacable, Christian
spirit. My belief is that you may learn to forgive bad language employed
to you; but, then, you must have a deal of practice, and be accustomed
to hear and use it. You embrace after a quarrel and mutual bad language.
Heaven bless us! Bad words are nothing when one is accustomed to them,
and scarce need ruffle the temper on either side.

So the aunt and niece played cards very amicably together, and drank to
each other's health, and each took a wing of the chicken, and pulled
a bone of the merry-thought, and (in conversation) scratched their
neighbours', not each other's, eyes out. Thus we have read how the
Peninsular warriors, when the bugles sang truce, fraternised and
exchanged tobacco-pouches and wine, ready to seize their firelocks and
knock each other's heads off when the truce was over; and thus our old
soldiers, skilful in war, but knowing the charms of a quiet life, laid
their weapons down for the nonce, and hob-and-nobbed gaily together. Of
course, whilst drinking with Jack Frenchman, you have your piece handy
to blow his brains out if he makes a hostile move: but, meanwhile, it is
A votre sante, mon camarade! Here's to you, mounseer! and everything is
as pleasant as possible. Regarding Aunt Bernstein's threatened gout? The
twinges had gone off. Maria was so glad! Maria's fainting fits? She had
no return of them. A slight recurrence last night. The Baroness was so
sorry! Her niece must see the best doctor, take everything to fortify
her, continue to take the steel, even after she left Tunbridge. How kind
of Aunt Bernstein to offer to send some of the bottled waters after her!
Suppose Madame Bernstein says in confidence to her own