"I recollect that talk, Marquis! Well, what then?"

"In my self-conceit I supposed that you might have heard how much I
admired Mademoiselle Cicogna--how, having not long since met her at the
house of Duplessis (who by the way writes me word that I shall meet you
_chez lui_ tomorrow), I have since sought her society wherever there was
a chance to find it. You may have heard, at our club, or elsewhere, how
I adore her genius--how, I say, that nothing so _Breton_--that is, so
pure and so lofty--has appeared and won readers since the days of
Chateaubriand,--and--you, knowing that _les absents ont toujours tort_,
come to me and ask Monsieur de Rochebriant, Are we rivals? I expected
a challenge--you relieve my mind--you abandon the field to me?"

At the first I warned the reader how improved from his old _mauvaise
honte_ a year or so of Paris life would make our beau Marquis. How a
year or two of London life with its horsey slang and its fast girls of
the period would have vulgarised an English Rochebriant! Graham gnawed
his lips and replied quietly, "I do not challenge! Am I to congratulate
you?"

"No, that brilliant victory is not for me. I thought that was made clear
in the conversation I have referred to. But if you have done me the
honour to be jealous I am exceedingly flattered. Speaking, seriously, if
I admired Mademoiselle Cicogna when you and I last met, the admiration is
increased by the respect with which I regard a character so simply noble.
How many women older than she would have been spoiled by the adulation
that has followed her literary success!--how few women so young, placed
in a position so critical, having the courage to lead a life so
independent, would have maintained the dignity of their character free