“I neither defy you nor fear you, my lord!” said I, with a tone and look which at any other time Lord Mowbray, who was prompt enough to take offence, would have understood as it was meant. But he was now determined not to be provoked by any thing I could say or look. Standing still at ease, he continued, “Not fear me!--Not bind me in honour!--Then I have nobody’s feelings to consult but my own. So, as I was considering, things are marvellously nicely balanced between us. In point of fortune, both beggars--nearly; for though my father did not disinherit me, I have disinherited myself. Then our precious mothers will go mad on the spot, in white satin, if either of us marry a Jewess. Well! that is even between us. Then religious scruples--you have some, have not you?” “I have, my lord.” “Dry enough--there I have the advantage--I have none. Mosque--high church--low church--no church--don’t let me shock you. I thought you were for universal toleration; I am for liberty of conscience, in marriage at least. You are very liberal, I know. You’re in love, and you’d marry even a Jewess, would not you, if you could not contrive to convert her? I am not in love, but shall be soon, I feel; and when once I am in love!--I turn idolater, plump. Now, an idolater’s worse than a Jew: so I should make it a point of conscience to turn Jew, to please the fair Jewess, if requisite.” “My lord, this trifling I can bear no longer; I must beg seriously that we may understand each other.” “Trifling!--Never was more serious in my life. I’d turn Jew--I’d turn any thing, for a woman I loved.” “Have you, or have you not, my lord, any intention of addressing Miss Montenero?” “Since I have your permission--since you have put it in my head--since you have piqued me--frankly--yes.” “I thank you for your frankness, my lord; I understand you. Now we understand each other,” said I. “Why, yes--and ‘tis time we should,” said Mowbray, coolly, “knowing one another, as we have done, even from our boyish days. You may remember, I never could bear to be piqued, _en honneur;_ especially by you, my dear Harrington. It was written above, that we were to be rivals. But still, if we could command our tempers--I was the hottest of the two, when we were boys; but seeing something of the world, abroad and at home, has done wonders for me. If you could coolly pursue this business as I wish, in the comic rather than the heroic style, we might still, though rivals, be friends--very good friends.” “No, my lord, no: here all friendship between us ends.” “Be it so,” said Lord Mowbray: “then sworn foes instead of sworn friends--and open war is the word!” “Open war!--yes--better than hollow peace.” “Then a truce for to-day; to-morrow, with your good leave, I enter the lists.” “When you please, my lord.”