"The conversation between the two Popites was thus reduced to nothing--only a word or two now and then; the rest was entirely made up of quotations. While Mr Darsy and his guest were thus employed, a servant came to announce that dinner was on the table. Both immediately rose to their feet. When they had done so, Mr Darsy took the preacher by the hand, and said, in an under tone-- "'Now, my dear good friend, when you go down stairs you will see my sister. She will dine with us. A good creature as ever lived--an excellent creature. But--but--I am ashamed to say it. The fact is, and you know it, my dear friend, that 'Good, as well as ill, Woman's at best a contradiction still.' "'My sister, in short, my dear friend, has no fancy for our adored bard. I can't account for it; but so it is. Therefore, if you will just be so good as say nothing about him while she is present, it will be as well. No quotations, you understand. We'll have our revenge for this restraint when she retires. We will resume the subject then, my dear sir,' added Mr Darsy, slapping his guest, in a friendly and jocose way, on the shoulder, as he spoke. 'We'll have a night of it; and I'll smuggle down _his_ works from my library, and we will glance them over together when we've got the room to ourselves. That will be a treat, eh?' "Thus cautioned as to his conduct in the presence of Mr Darsy's sister, Mr Claythorn descended to the dining-room with his host. Not a word--not the most distant allusion to Pope--escaped either of the two gentlemen; so that, whatever Miss Darsy's suspicions of the case might be--and she certainly looked as if she had some suspicions of it--nothing transpired to give her assurance of the fact. On her retiring, however, the pent-up sluices of the Popites were thrown open, and out there rushed two impetuous streams of poetry; sometimes blending, sometimes alternating, and sometimes running counter to each other. Mr Darsy was delighted--more than delighted with his friend; for he had never, in the whole course of his life, met with one who could quote his favourite author with such facility and at such length, as the guest whom he was now entertaining; neither had he ever met with one who had so deep, so thorough a reverence for the mighty moral poet. "This was altogether, in short, one of the happiest nights he had ever spent in his life. At its close, Mr Darsy accompanied his guest--who he insisted should remain with him all night--to his bedroom, and parted from him there with a very apt quotation, to which his friend replied with another no less felicitous, which he delivered in a very feeling and impressive manner. On the following morning-- "'What keeps your reverend friend, brother?' said Miss Darsy, somewhat sneeringly--for she had strong suspicions of the stranger's being a Popite--as she sat at the breakfast-table, waiting the appearance of that person, before proceeding to discharge the duties of the morning meal.