'If a man is so poor a rider as to cling to his nag by the spurs, he must needs apply a strong curb to control the madness he provokes.' 'And I am that rider? Thank you. Your ladyship's palace resembles the home of the tranced Beauty. It is grievously begirt with thorns and stinging-nettles. I vow I know not why our dear Curran nourishes such asperity against me, for I never did him a favour. But there, there! He's politically insane. A mountebank with one half his talent for rant would make his fortune!' 'Were I one, my lord,' returned Curran, with a bow, 'so presumptuous as to set my little head against the opinions of a nation, I should be glad if folks said I were insane!' Lord Clare's cheeks were beginning to be unusually rosy, for Doreen gazed at him with undisguised contempt, and my lady was evidently amused in a half-malicious way at the encounter. 'If you think,' he said loftily, 'that it will help you into consequence, you are welcome to bespatter me; but be assured that I value you so little, either as a lawyer or a man, that I must decline to address you further till you learn manners.' Lord Glandore was enchanted, and almost forgot his headache, for he sniffed a good duel in the wind, and was an artist in such matters. 'I desired to plead with you against yourself,' the little man said stiffly, 'wherein I was a fool, because your heart, as we know, is ice. Nay, I have done; for I may not carry on a conflict wherein victory can bring no honour!' The countess smiled with thin lips, as Bess may have smiled when Leicester and Essex were bickering. The fact of these sworn foes being constantly here together, was in itself an indirect compliment to her fascinations. Bowing low to her ladyship, Curran trudged across to the stable-yard, whither his pony had trotted before; and Terence, from whose face the devil had been peeping ever since the speech about the half-mounted, followed him in silence thither. Lord Clare flicked the dust from his pink silk stockings, and plumed himself complacently, as a hawk does after a tussle with some formidable fowl. 'Fore Gad, my lady,' he said, 'you are too indulgent. That animal must be banished from your menagerie, for he is too rough a bear!' 'A good man and true!' returned my lady, with decision; 'despite his sharp tongue and unprepossessing shell. He was hard on you, touching you on the raw, and you got the worst of it, and flew in a passion, and were rude, though you pride yourself upon your temper. You must make it up before you sit down to breakfast.' Terence found his chief standing over his pony, a prey to violent agitation. 'My boy,' he cried out at once, 'I must have a blaze at that rascal!' 'What rascal?' asked the other, who, wounded by his mother's indifference, was brooding on his own trouble. 'There's but one rascal in the world, and his name's Clare! I'll make a window through him, I will, with sword or pistol, as suits him best. Go and tell him so.'