'At least,' said I, 'novels must be much more true than histories, because historians often contradict each other, but novelists never do.' 'Yet do not novelists contradict themselves?' said he. 'Certainly,' replied I, 'and there lies the surest proof of their veracity. For as human actions are always contradicting themselves, so those books which faithfully relate them, must do the same.' 'Admirable!' exclaimed he. 'And yet what proof have we that such personages as Schedoni, Vivaldi, Camilla, or Cecilia ever existed?' 'And what proof have we,' cried I, 'that such personages as Alfred the Great, Henry the Fifth, Elfrida, or Mary Queen of Scots, ever existed? I wonder at a man of sense like you. Why, Sir, at this rate you might just as well question the truth of Guy Faux's attempt to blow up the Parliament-House, or of my having blown up a house last night.' 'You blow up a house!' exclaimed the big lady with amazement. 'Madam,' said I, modestly, 'I scorn ostentation, but on my word and honour, 'tis fact.' 'Of course you did it accidentally,' said the gentleman. 'You wrong me, Sir,' replied I; 'I did it by design.' 'You will swing for it, however,' cried the big lady. 'Swing for it!' said I; 'a heroine swing? Excellent! I presume, Madam, you are unacquainted with the common law of romance.' 'Just,' said she, 'as you seem to be with the common law of England.' 'I despise the common law of England,' cried I. 'Then I fancy,' said she, 'it would not be much amiss if you were hanged.' 'And I fancy,' retorted I, nodding at her big figure, 'it would not be much amiss if you were quartered.' Instantly she took out a prayer-book, and began muttering over it with the most violent piety and indignation. Meantime the gentleman coincided in every syllable that I said, praised my parts and knowledge, and discovered evident symptoms of a discriminating mind, and an amiable heart. That I am right in my good opinion of him is most certain; for he himself assured me that it would be quite impossible to deceive me, I am so penetrating. In short, I have set him down as the benevolent guardian, whom my memoirs will hereafter celebrate, for having saved me from destruction. Indeed he has already done so. For, when our journey was almost over, he told me, that my having set fire to the ruin might prove a most fatal affair; and whispered that the big lady would probably inform against me. On my pleading the prescriptive immunities of heroines, and asserting that the law could never lay its fangs on so ethereal a name as Cherubina, he solemnly swore to me, that he once knew a golden-haired, azure-eyed heroine, called Angelica Angela Angelina, who was hanged at the Old Bailey for stealing a broken lute out of a haunted chamber; and while my blood was running cold at the recital, he pressed me so cordially to take refuge in his house, that at length, I threw myself on the protection of the best of men.