"Well, 'tis a foolish practice," said Morini, changing the subject,--"ay, and a barbarous one too, my lord. We derive it from the worst and rudest times of history. Who ever heard of a Roman or a Greek fighting a duel? Yet they were brave men, those ancients." "Yet you go well armed, signor," said Lord Montagu, pointing to his long rapier, with a smile. "It is good always to be prepared," answered the other. "Besides, this rapier has many qualities and perfections, for which I value it. The blade is true Toledo, the sheath wrought by Jean of Cordova. Then the hilt, you see, is of silver, exquisitely cast by Cellini's own hand. Did you ever see a more graceful group than the two figures which compose it?--a warrior putting his hand to his sword, and a young girl with her arm round his neck pressing the weapon back into the sheath,--types of courage and moderation. The dagger is a curious relic of the feudal times,--a kill-villain, as the young Genoese nobles used to call it. We have no such handiwork as that now, my lord," he continued, as Montagu examined the weapon. "'Tis curious how arts and sciences are lost, and how, whilst mankind deem they are making great progress, they are falling back in one path as much as they are advancing in another." Edward Langdale went round to Lord Montagu's side and gazed at the workmanship of the sword and dagger over his shoulder, murmuring, as he did so, "Beautiful, indeed!"--much to Morini's satisfaction. "You seem to be a judge of such things, young gentleman," said the Italian. "But little," said Edward: "my father, indeed, had some fine specimens of art which he had brought over to England from this country; but any one who sees a beautiful and graceful figure, well executed, must know and admire it." "Your pardon! your pardon!" cried Morini. "The eye and the taste both want educating. Had you not seen and admired those objects of your father's, you would probably not have discovered the beauty of this. If you stay long in Aix, I can show you some other things well worth your observation." "My stay depends entirely upon my lord," replied Edward; "but I think if he have no further commands I must retire to the abbey, for it is late." "I will accompany you part of the way," said Morini, rising. "Nay," said Lord Montagu, "you forget you came here for a special purpose, my good signor. Edward can go; for, though he has faith in physiognomy, he has none in astrology, I believe; but you must stay with me a little longer. Come early to-morrow, Ned, and bring your two men with you." "It is wrong, my lord," said the Italian, "very wrong, to put full faith in an uncertain science and refuse it to a certain one. But I will convince him in a moment before he goes home. Come hither, young gentleman, and let me speak a word in your ear."