"Montenero!--Can you think of nothing but Mr. Montenero, whom you've never
seen, and never will see?"

"Thank you for that, my lord," said my mother; "one touch from you is worth
a hundred from me."

"But of what Jew then are you talking? and what's your news, my lord?" said
I.

"My news is only--for Heaven's sake, Harrington, do not look expecting a
mountain, for 'tis only a mouse. The news is, that Macklin, the honest Jew
of Venice, has got the pound, or whatever number of pounds he wanted to get
from the manager's heart; the quarrel's made up, and if you keep your
senses, you may have a chance to see, next week, this famous Jew of
Venice."

"I am heartily glad of it!" cried I, with enthusiasm.

"And is that all?" said my mother, coldly.

"Mr. Harrington," said Lady Anne, "is really so enthusiastic about some
things, and so cold about others, there is no understanding him; he is
very, very _odd_."

Notwithstanding all the pains my mother took to atone for my offence, and
notwithstanding that I had humbled myself to the dust to obtain pardon, I
was not forgiven.

Lady de Brantefield, Lady Anne, and some other company, dined with us; and