"What saith the Latin poet?" and he quoted a couplet from Martial—a jest at the usual amusements of the seemingly decent man. I know not where he had got hold of it, for he was no scholar; but it was full of the exceeding grossness which is scarcely to be found outside that poet. He thought, I could guess, that the girl understood no Latin, but, as I knew, she had a special proficiency in that tongue. She understood the jest only too well. A deep blush grew over her face from her delicate throat to the very borders of her hair. ’Twas just in such a way that Marjory had looked when I first told her my love; ’twas in such a fashion she had bade me farewell. The thought of her raised a great storm of passion in my heart against anyone who would dare thus to put a woman to shame. I strove hard to curb it, but I felt with each second that it would overmaster me. "Well, John, what think you of my Latinity?" asked my cousin from over the table. "I think, I think," I cried, "that you are a damned scurrilous fellow, a paillard, a hound; ’fore God, Gilbert, I will make you smart for this," and, ere I well knew what I did, I had seized my glass and hurled it at his head. It struck him on the cheek, scratching the skin, but doing little hurt. In a trice he was on his feet with his hand at his sword. One half the table rose and stared at the two of us, while Master Wishart left the head and came rushing to the back of my chair. As for myself, I felt such desperate shame at my conduct that I knew not what to do. I had now made a fool of myself in downright earnest. I felt my cheek tingling and flaming, but I could do naught but look before me. Then my cousin did a thing which gave him great honour, and completed my shame; for bridling his anger, as I saw with a mighty effort, he said calmly, though his arms were quivering with rage: "I would ask you to be more careful in your use of glasses. See, yours has flown right over to me and played havoc with my cheek. ’Faith, it is no light duty to sup opposite you, _mon ami_. But, indeed, gentlemen," and he bowed to the company, "’twas but an unfortunate mischance." At this all sat down again, and scarce five minutes after, Gilbert rose to leave, and with him the other gentlemen of his regiment. Master Wishart bade him sit down again, for the night was yet young, but my cousin would not be persuaded. He nodded carelessly to me, kissed his hand to pretty Mistress Kate, and swaggered out.