"To America together?" said Belle, looking full at me.

"Yes," said I; "where we will settle down in some forest, and
conjugate the verb siriel conjugally."

"Conjugally?" said Belle.

"Yes," said I; "as man and wife in America, air yew ghin."

"You are jesting, as usual," said Belle.

"Not I, indeed. Come, Belle, make up your mind, and let us be off
to America; and leave priests, humbug, learning, and languages
behind us."

"I don't think you are jesting," said Belle; "but I can hardly
entertain your offers; however, young man, I thank you."

"You had better make up your mind at once," said I, "and let us be
off. I shan't make a bad husband, I assure you. Perhaps you think
I am not worthy of you? To convince you, Belle, that I am, I am
ready to try a fall with you this moment upon the grass.
Brynhilda, the valkyrie, swore that no one should ever marry her
who could not fling her down. Perhaps you have done the same. The
man who eventually married her, got a friend of his, who was called
Sygurd, the serpent-killer, to wrestle with her, disguising him in
his own armour. Sygurd flung her down, and won her for his friend,
though he loved her himself. I shall not use a similar deceit, nor
employ Jasper Petulengro to personate me--so get up, Belle, and I
will do my best to fling you down."