Harley was startled, and replied, with a slight sigh, "At your age I should have said as you do. But this England of ours is so crowded with noble minds, that they only jostle each other, and the career is one cloud of dust." "So, I have read, seems a battle to the common soldier, but not to the chief." "You have read good descriptions of battles, I see." Mrs. Riccabocca, who thought this remark a taunt upon her daughter-in-law's studies, hastened to Violante's relief. "Her papa made her read the history of Italy, and I believe that is full of battles." HARLEY.--"All history is, and all women are fond of war and of warriors. I wonder why." VIOLANTE (turning to Helen, and in a very low voice, resolved that Harley should not hear this time).--"We can guess why--can we not?" HARLEY (hearing every word, as if it had been spoken in St. Paul's Whispering Gallery.)--"If you can guess, Helen, pray tell me." HELEN (shaking her pretty head, and answering with a livelier smile than usual.)--"But I am not fond of war and warriors." HARLEY (to Violante).--"Then I must appeal at once to you, self-convicted Bellona that you are. Is it from the cruelty natural to the female disposition?" VIOLANTE (with a sweet musical laugh).--"From two propensities still more natural to it." HARLEY.--"You puzzle me: what can they be?" VIOLANTE.--"Pity and admiration; we pity the weak, and admire the brave." Harley inclined his head and was silent. Lady Lansmere had suspended her conversation with Riccabocca to listen to this dialogue. "Charming!" she cried. "You have explained what has often perplexed me. Ah, Harley, I am glad to see that your satire is foiled; you have no reply to that." "No; I willingly own myself defeated--too glad to claim the Signorina's pity, since my cavalry sword hangs on the wall, and I can have no longer a professional pretense to her admiration." He then rose, and glanced toward the window. "But I see a more formidable disputant for my conqueror to encounter is coming into the field--one whose profession it is to substitute some other romance for that of camp and siege." "Our friend Leonard," said Riccabocca, turning his eye also toward the window. "True; as Quevedo says wittily, 'Ever since there has been so great a demand for type, there has been much less lead to spare for cannon-balls.'" Here Leonard entered. Harley had sent Lady Lansmere's footman to him with a note, that prepared him to meet Helen. As he came into the room, Harley took him by the hand, and led him to Lady Lansmere.