England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Genealogy -- Fiction
command: 'Describe succinctly the alterations effected in the Polish
Constitution during the seventeenth century.' Such encyclopaedic
knowledge appalled and alarmed poor Dick, with his narrower British
outlook. He began to feel he had been ill-advised indeed to measure his
own strength against the diplomatic service and the historical geniuses
of the old foundations.
When they came out at mid-day he compared notes on their respective
performances with Gillingham. All three young men lunched together at
the Saracen's Head, Dick ordering cold beef and a glass of water, for
Mr. Plantagenet's example had made him a teetotaler; while the two
Rugby boys fared sumptuously every day off cutlets, asparagus, fresh
strawberries, and claret. Gillingham had walked through the paper, he
averred--a set of absurdly elementary questions.
'I floored Jacopo Nardi,' he remarked with a genial smile, 'and I simply
polished off the Edict of Rostock.'
Dick, more despondent, went through it in detail, confessing with shame
to entire ignorance of more than one important matter.
'Oh, the Poet wins!' Faussett exclaimed, with deep admiration. 'He wins
in a canter. I tell you, it's no use any other fellow going in when the
Poet's in the field. It's Gillingham first, and the rest nowhere. He
knows his books, you see. He's a fearful pro. at them.'
'Perhaps there's a dark horse, though,' Gillingham suggested, smiling.
'The Prince of the Blood may hold the lists, after all, against all
comers.'
'Perhaps so,' Faussett answered with a short little laugh. 'But I'll
back the Rugby lot against the field, all the same, for a fiver. The
rest are rank outsiders. Even money on the Poet! Now, gentlemen, now's
your chance! The Poet for a fiver! even money on the Poet--the Poet
wins! “Who'll back the Plantagenet?”'
Dick coloured to the very roots of his hair; he felt himself beaten
in the race beforehand. Oh, why had he ever come up to this glorious,
impossible place at all? And why did he ever confide the secret of his
intentions to the imprudent head of the house of Plantagenet?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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