, did you not take the trouble of doing so?"

Selby looked confused, blushed, looked awkwardly from side to side, and
then, with a glance towards his friend, seemed to say, "Will you try and
answer him?"

"I think you have hit it yourself, Prince," said Baynton. "It was the
trouble, the bore of an explanation, deterred him. He hates writing, and
he thought there would be a shower of notes to be replied to, meetings,
discussions, and what not; and so he said, 'Let him have his shot, and
have done with it.'"

The Russian looked from one to the other as he listened, and seemed
really as if not quite sure whether this speech was uttered
in seriousness or sarcasm. The calm, phlegmatic faces of the
Englishmen,--the almost apathetic expression they wore,--soon convinced
him that the words were truthfully spoken; and he stood actually
confounded with amazement before them.

Lord Selby and his friend freely accepted the polite invitation of the
Prince to breakfast, and they all adjourned to a small but splendidly
decorated room, where everything was already awaiting them. There are
few incidents in life which so much predispose to rapid intimacy as the
case of an averted duel. The revulsion from animosity is almost certain
to lead to, if not actual friendship, what may easily become so. In the
present instance, the very diversities of national character gave a zest
and enjoyment to the meeting; and while the Englishmen were charmed by
the fascination of manners and conversational readiness of their hosts,
the Russians were equally struck with a cool imperturbability and
impassiveness, of which they had never seen the equal.

By degrees the Russian led the conversation to the question by which
their misunderstanding originated. "You know my Lord Glencore, perhaps?"
said he.

"Never saw, scarcely ever heard of him," said Selby, in his dry, laconic
tone.

"Is he mad, or a fool?" asked the Prince, half angrily.

"I served in a regiment once where he commanded a troop," said Baynton;
"and they always said he was a good sort of fellow."

"You read that paragraph this morning, I conclude?" said the Russian.
"You saw how he dares to stigmatize the honor of his wife,--to degrade
her to the rank of a mistress,--and, at the same time, to bastardize the
son who ought to inherit his rank and title?"

"I read it," said Selby, dryly; "and I had a letter from my lawyer about
it this morning."

"Indeed!" exclaimed he, anxious to he