This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> THE ADVENTURES OF HARRY RICHMOND By George Meredith BOOK 5. XXXIII. WHAT CAME OF A SHILLING XXXIV. I GAIN A PERCEPTION OF PRINCELY STATE XXXV. THE SCENE IN THE LAKE-PALACE LIBRARY XXXVI. HOMEWARD AND HOME AGAIN. XXXVII. JANET RENOUNCES ME XXXVIII. MY BANKERS' BOOK. CHAPTER XXXIII WHAT CAME OF A SHILLING The surgeon, who attended us both, loudly admired our mutual delicacy in sparing arteries and vital organs: but a bullet cuts a rougher pathway than the neat steel blade, and I was prostrate when the prince came to press my hand on his departure for his quarters at Laibach. The utterly unreasonable nature of a duel was manifested by his declaring to me, that he was now satisfied I did not mean to insult him and then laugh at him. We must regard it rather as a sudorific for feverish blood and brains. I felt my wound acutely, seeing his brisk step when he retired. Having overthrown me bodily, it threw my heart back to its first emotions, and I yearned to set eyes on my father, with a haunting sense that I had of late injured him and owed him reparation. It vanished after he had been in my room an hour, to return when he had quitted it, and incessantly and inexplicably it went and came in this manner. He was depressed. I longed for drollery, relieved only by chance allusions to my beloved one, whereas he could not conceal his wish to turn the stupid duel to account. 'Pencil a line to her,' he entreated me, and dictated his idea of a moving line, adding urgently, that the crippled letters would be affecting to her, as to the Great Frederick his last review of his invalid veterans. 'Your name--the signature of your name alone, darling Richie,' and he traced a crooked scrawl with a forefinger,--", Still, dearest angel, in contempt of death and blood, I am yours to eternity, Harry Lepel Richmond, sometimes called Roy--a point for your decision in the future, should the breath everlastingly devoted to the most celestial of her sex, continue to animate the frame that would rise on wings to say adieu! adieu!"--Richie, just a sentence?' He was distracting. His natural tenderness and neatness of hand qualified him for spreading peace in a sick-room; but he was too full of life and his scheme, and knowing me out of danger, he could not forbear giving his despondency an outlet. I heard him exclaim in big sighs: 'Heavens! how near!' and again, 'She must hear of it!' Never was man so incorrigibly dramatic.