"Muirtown Races 'ill be nothing to it," said Ritchie. "I'll lay anybody
a shilling that Speug coups (capsizes) Dunc the first meeting;
but"--feeling as if it were almost too good to be true--"I dinna
believe a word o't. Nestie is a fearsome liar." And after the school had
spoken of nothing else for a day, Dunc Robertson asked the Count boldly
whether such things were true.
"_Mon ami_," said the Count, who had tasted Nestie's romance with much
relish, "you will pardon me, but it is a _banalité_, that is what you
call a stupidity, to ask whether so good a _jeu d'esprit_ is true. True?
Truth is a dull quality, it belongs to facts; but Nestie, he does not
live among facts, he flies in the air, in the atmosphere of poetry. He
is a _raconteur_. A tournament with knights on the North Meadow--good!
Our little Nestie, he has been reading _Ivanhoe_ and he is a
troubadour." And the Count took off his hat in homage to Nestie's
remarkable powers as an author of fiction.
"But yes, it will be a tournament; but not for the body, for the mind.
My dogs are jolly dogs; they can run, they can leap, they can swim, they
can kick the ball; now they must think, ah! so deep. They must write
their very best words, they must show that they have beautiful minds;
and they will do so, I swear they will, in the tournament, which will
not be on the meadow--no; too many cows there, and too many washers of
clothes--but in seclusion, in the class-room of that brave man called
the Bulldog. It will be a battle," concluded the Count with enthusiasm,
"of heads: and the best head, that head will have the prize, _voilà_."
"Silence!" and Bulldog brought his cane down upon his desk that
Wednesday afternoon when the whole upper school was gathered in his
class-room, bursting with curiosity. "The Count has a proposeetion to
lay before you which he will explain in his own words and which has the
sanction of the Rector. Ye will be pleased to give the Count a
respectful hearing, as he deserves at yir hands." And Bulldog was there
to see that the Count's deserts and his treatment strictly corresponded.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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