you are old, and might be the girl's father; you are a gentleman;
you are a scholar, and have learned refinement; and you rake together all
this vulgar scandal, and propose to print it in a public book! Such is
your chivalry! But, thank God, sir, she has still a husband. You say,
sir, in that paper in your hand, that I am a bad fencer; I have to
request from you a lesson in the art. The park is close behind; yonder
is the Pheasant House, where you will find your carriage; should I fall,
you know, sir--you have written it in your paper--how little my movements
are regarded; I am in the custom of disappearing; it will be one more
disappearance; and long before it has awakened a remark, you may be safe
across the border.'

'You will observe,' said Sir John, 'that what you ask is impossible.'

'And if I struck you?' cried the Prince, with a sudden menacing flash.

'It would be a cowardly blow,' returned the Baronet, unmoved, 'for it
would make no change. I cannot draw upon a reigning sovereign.'

'And it is this man, to whom you dare not offer satisfaction, that you
choose to insult!' cried Otto.

'Pardon me,' said the traveller, 'you are unjust. It is because you are
a reigning sovereign that I cannot fight with you; and it is for the same
reason that I have a right to criticise your action and your wife. You
are in everything a public creature; you belong to the public, body and
bone. You have with you the law, the muskets of the army, and the eyes
of spies. We, on our side, have but one weapon--truth.'

'Truth!' echoed the Prince, with a gesture.

There was another silence.

'Your Highness,' said Sir John at last, 'you must not expect grapes from
a thistle. I am old and a cynic. Nobody cares a rush for me; and on the
whole, after the present interview, I scarce know anybody that I like
better than yourself. You see, I have changed my mind, and have the
uncommon virtue to avow the change. I tear up this stuff before you,
here in your own garden; I ask your pardon, I ask the pardon of the
Princess; and I give you my word of honour as a gentleman and an old man,
that when my book of travels shall appear it shall not contain so much as
the name of Grunewald. And yet it was a racy chapter! But had your
Highness only read about the other courts! I am a carrion crow; but it
is not my fault, after all, that the world is such a nauseous kennel.'

'Sir,' said Otto, 'is the eye not jaundiced?'

'Nay,' cri