“Pooh! pooh! Don’t make a pedagogue of yourself. You know you are here
more as a guardian—big brother, you know—to the dear child. By
the way, I am rather afraid you are working him a little more than his
constitution will stand.”
“Do you think so?” returned Hugh quite willing to be convinced. “I should
be very sorry.”
“This is the passage,” said Euphra.
Hugh sat down once more at the table beside her. He found this morsel
considerably tougher than the last. But at length he succeeded in pulling
it to pieces and reconstructing it in a simpler form for the lady. She was
full of thanks and admiration. Naturally enough, they went on to the next
line, and the next stanza, and the next and the next; till—shall I
be believed?—they had read a whole canto of the poem. Euphra knew
more words by a great many than Hugh; so that, what with her knowledge of
the words, and his insight into the construction, they made rare progress.
“What a beautiful passage it is!” said Euphra.
“It is indeed,” responded Hugh; “I never read anything more beautiful.”
“I wonder if it would be possible to turn that into English. I should like
to try.”
“You mean verse, of course?”
“To be sure.”
“Let us try, then. I will bring you mine when I have finished it. I fear
it will take some time, though, to do it well. Shall it be in blank verse,
or what?”
“Oh! don’t you think we had better keep the Terza Rima of the original?”
“As you please. It will add much to the difficulty.”
“Recreant knight! will you shrink from following where your lady leads?”
“Never! so help me, my good pen!” answered Hugh, and took his departure,
with burning cheeks and a trembling at the heart. Alas! the morning was
gone. Harry was not in his study: he sought and found him in the library,
apparently buried in Polexander.
“I am so glad you are come,” said Harry; “I am so tired.”
“Why do you read that stupid book, then?”
“Oh! you know, I told you.”
“Tut! tut! nonsense! Put it away,” said Hugh, his dissatisfaction with
himself making him cross with Harry, who felt, in consequence, ten times
more desolate than before. He could not understand the change.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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