poet was absent, for he was musing a sonnet.

The Marquess refuted, had recourse to contradiction, and was too acute a
man to be insensible to the forlornness of his situation; when, at this
moment, a voice proceeded from the end of the table, from a young
gentleman, who had hitherto preserved a profound silence, but whose
silence, if the company were to have judged from the tones of his
voice, and the matter of his communication, did not altogether proceed
from a want of confidence in his own abilities. "In my opinion," said
Mr. Vivian Grey, as he sat lounging in his father's vacated seat, "in my
opinion his Lordship has been misunderstood; and it is, as is generally
the case, from a slight verbal misconception in the commencement of this
argument, that the whole of this difference arises."

The eyes of the Marquess sparkled, and the mouth of the Marquess was
closed. His Lordship was delighted that his reputation might yet be
saved; but as he was not perfectly acquainted in what manner that
salvation was to be effected, he prudently left the battle to his
youthful champion.

Mr. Vivian Grey proceeded with the utmost sang froid; he commented upon
expressions, split and subtilised words, insinuated opinions, and
finally quoted a whole passage of Bolingbroke to prove that the opinion
of the most noble the Marquess of Carabas was one of the soundest,
wisest, and most convincing of opinions that ever was promulgated by
mortal man. The tables were turned, the guests looked astounded, the
Marquess settled his ruffles, and perpetually exclaimed, "Exactly what I
meant!" and his opponents, full of wine and quite puzzled, gave in.

It was a rule with Vivian Grey never to advance any opinion as his own.