“Sir, if I had known that the man was lying soberly about me, I would surely have given him openly the name he merits. But I did not dream that he would dare to say out of liquor what he said in liquor; for he is a quaking coward, and as fearful as a whipped child. Others are behind him in this bluster. Alas, my money has never brought me anything but envy and ill-will--no matter how heartily I give it! What would you advise me to do, sir?” “Make the man hold his tongue.” “How?” The judge was silent a moment, then with a touch of scorn he answered: “There is the law. Sue him for slander. He is said to be worth twenty thousand dollars. Lay your damages at twenty thousand. Your friend, Mr. Burr, will defend your case very feelingly, no doubt.” And with some anger Leonard answered: “That course is out of the question, sir.” “Well, then, write a letter to the newspapers.” “I do not propose to lend the fellow’s words so much importance.” “Then give him his lies back generally, and particularly--give him them back on the street, and in the guard-room, or wherever you meet him--and make a point of meeting him, here, there, and everywhere.” “That is what I propose to do. Then, sir, egged on by those whose cue he is now following, he will probably challenge me. Shall I accept his challenge?” “I am not your conscience keeper, Leonard.” “Put the question then, as a matter of social expediency.” “If the social verdict is what you want, ask Achille St. Ange. He is a good authority.” “Once more, sir. If I lift this foolish business to the moral plane, what do you say?”