politics
subdued if not suppressed in his cynical journal. Somebody told me
that the Cicogna is very much in love with Rameau; certainly he has a
handsome face of his own, and that is the reason why she was so rude to
the Russian Prince X-----."

"How rude! Did the Prince propose to her?"

"Propose! you forget--he is married. Don't you know the Princess? Still
there are other kinds of proposals than those of marriage which a rich
Russian prince may venture to make to a pretty novelist brought up for
the stage."

"Bevil!" cried Graham, grasping the man's arm fiercely, "how dare you?"

"My dear boy," said Bevil, very much astonished, "I really did not know
that your interest in the young lady was so great. If I have wounded
you in relating a mere on dit picked up at the Jockey Club, I beg you a
thousand pardons. I dare say there was not a word of truth in it."

"Not a word of truth, you may be sure, if the on dit was injurious to
Mademoiselle Cicogna. It is true, I have a strong interest in her; any
man--any gentleman--would have such interest in a girl so brilliant and
seemingly so friendless. It shames one of human nature to think that
the reward which the world makes to those who elevate its platitudes,
brighten its dulness, delight its leisure, is Slander! I have had
the honour to make the acquaintance of this lady before she became a
'celebrity,' and I have never met in my paths through life a purer
heart or a nobler nature. What is the wretched on dit you condescend to
circulate? Permit me to add:

"'He who repeats a slander shares the crime.'"

"Upon my honour, my dear Vane," said Bevil seriously (he did not want
for spirit), "I hardly know you this evening. It is not because duelling
is out of fashion that a man should allow himself to speak in a tone
that gives offence to another who intended none; and if duelling is out
of fashion in England, it is still possible in France.--Entre nous, I
would rather cross the Channel with you than submit to language that
conveys unmerited insult."

Graham's cheek, before ashen pale, flushed into dark red. "I understand
you," he said quietly, "and will be at Boulogne to-morrow."

"Graham Vane," replied Bevil, with much dignity, "you and I have known
each other a great many years, and neither of us has cause to question
the courage of the other; but I am much older than yourself--permit
me to take the melancholy advantage of seniority. A duel between us in
consequenc