Why isn't there
a place where we can go and meet, like man to man, and have it over! If I
had a ball through my brains I shouldn't mind, I tell you. I've a mind to
do it for myself, Pendennis. You don't understand me, Viscount."
"Il est vrai," said Florac, with a shrug, "I comprehend neither the
suicide nor the chaise-de-poste. What will you? I am not yet enough
English, my friend. We make marriages of convenance in our country, que
diable, and what follows follows; but no scandal afterwards! Do not adopt
our institutions a demi, my friend. Vous ne me comprenez pas non plus,
men pauvre Jack!"
"There is one way still, I think," said the third of the speakers in this
scene. "Let Lord Highgate come to Rosebury in his own name, leaving that
of Mr. Harris behind him. If Sir Barnes Newcome wants you, he can seek
you there. If you will go, as go you should, and God speed you, you can
go, and in your own name, too."
"Parbleu, c'est ca," cries Florac, "he speaks like a book--the
romancier!" I confess, for my part, I thought that a good woman might
plead with him, and touch that manly not disloyal heart now trembling on
the awful balance between evil and good.
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