"Ha, we will go to his house, then," said the bishop, "if you will step over this railing. But stop here one moment and observe the moon rising over Mr. Dean’s cathedral. Is it not a peaceful, pleasant spot, gentlemen?" "It beats thunder," said Plant. "It does, it does," nodded his lordship. "Many Americans, who admire this cathedral immensely, have made the same acute observation. May I ask your names, gentlemen? I am the bishop of this diocese." "My name is Plant, Rufus Q. Plant, and my friend is the Marquis of Rivaulx." "Indeed," returned the bishop, "is the gentleman the French nobleman who is interested in balloons?" "Yes," said Plant. "Dear me! I am delighted," said his lordship. "I, too, am interested in balloons. I saw one go up once." "You like them?" asked Rivaulx, warmly. "That is good! I will take you up in one." "We will talk of it later," said the bishop, rather hastily for a man of his gentle flowing speech. "But this is the dean’s house. If I knock at this window, he will put his head out." He knocked at the window, and Mr. Dean did put his head out. "I am _so_ loath to disturb you, Mr. Dean," said his lordship, "but, as I was leaving you and taking a little stroll before retiring, I met two gentlemen, one from the United States and one a French marquis, who were engaged in a warm discussion on a point of honour. I am ignorant of the exact point, and I dare say there is no necessity for our knowing. As a result of this discussion, the French marquis desired to fight a duel with swords (you will observe them under the arm of the gentleman from the United States), and I ventured to intervene, as the duel was to take place upon your grass." "Humph, indeed!" said the dean, in great astonishment. "And what did you say?" "I said that it was against your rules to allow any one to fight duels there. Was I not right?" "Rather!" said the dean. "I should say so." "And on the other hand," continued the bishop, "the gentleman from across the Atlantic wished to go to bed." "Then why the—why doesn’t he?" asked the dean. "It seemed to me that the gentleman from across the water wanted to go to bed upon your grass," said the bishop. "I pointed out to him that there was a very old and strict rule dating from the time beyond record which forbade this. Was I not right?" "You were," said the dean. "I never go to bed on the grass myself, and do not permit others to do so. I never fight duels there, either, and do not allow it." "You see, gentlemen," said the bishop, but before he could add another word Bob rushed right upon the group outside the dean’s windows, and saw that Plant made one of them. He saw the swords also, and then recognized Rivaulx. "Oh, I say," said Bob, "you were going to fight a duel about Pen! I’ve come in time! It’s no good. She has married Timothy Bunting, her groom!" *CHAPTER XVII.*