een living in the midst of real war for seven months; and to hear
this windy giant lay out his imaginary campaigns and fairly swim in blood
and spatter it all around, entertained them to the verge of the grave.
Catherine was like to die, for pure enjoyment. She didn't laugh loud--we,
of course, wished she would--but kept in the shelter of a fan, and shook
until there was danger that she would unhitch her ribs from her spine.
Then when the Paladin had got done with a battle and we began to feel
thankful and hope for a change, she would speak up in a way that was so
sweet and persuasive that it rankled in me, and ask him about some detail
or other in the early part of his battle which she said had greatly
interested her, and would he be so good as to describe that part again
and with a little more particularity?--which of course precipitated the
whole battle on us, again, with a hundred lies added that had been
overlooked before.

I do not know how to make you realize the pain I suffered. I had never
been jealous before, and it seemed intolerable that this creature should
have this good fortune which he was so ill entitled to, and I have to sit
and see myself neglected when I was so longing for the least little
attention out of the thousand that this beloved girl was lavishing on
him. I was near her, and tried two or three times to get started on some
of the things that I had done in those battles--and I felt ashamed of
myself, too, for stooping to such a business--but she cared for nothing
but his battles, and could not be got to listen; and presently when one
of my attempts caused her to lose some precious rag or other of his
mendacities and she asked him to repeat, thus bringing on a new
engagement, of course, and increasing the havoc and carnage tenfold, I
felt so humiliated by this pitiful miscarriage of mine that I gave up and
tried no more.

The others were as outraged by the Paladin's selfish conduct as I
was--and by his grand luck, too, of course--perhaps, indeed, that was the
main hurt. We talked our trouble over together, which was natural, for
rivals become brothers when a common affliction assails them and a common
enemy bears off the victory.

Each of us could do things that would please and get notice if it were
not for this person, who occupied all the time and gave others no chance.
I had made a poem, taking a whole night to it--a poem in which I most
happily and delicately celebrated that sweet girl's