He was a
gentleman - of the fine flower, as he would have described himself -
of the nobility of Portugal; and that a probably upstart Irish
soldier - himself, from Samoval's point of view, a guest in that
country - should deny him his house, and choose such terms of
ill-considered jocularity in which to do it, was an affront beyond
all endurance.
For a moment passion blinded him, and it was only by an effort that
he recovered and kept his self-control. But keep it he did. You
may trust your practised duellist for that when he comes face to
face with the necessity to demand satisfaction. And soon the mist
of passion clearing from his keen wits, he sought swiftly for a
means to fasten the quarrel upon Sir Terence in Sir Terence's own
coin of galling mockery. Instantly he found it. Indeed it was not
very far to seek. O'Moy's jealousy, which was almost a byword, as
we know, had been apparent more than once to Samoval. Remembering
it now, it discovered to him at once Sir Terence's most vulnerable
spot, and cunningly Samoval proceeded to gall him there.
A smile spread gradually over his white face - a smile of
immeasurable malice.
"I am having a very interesting and instructive morning in this
atmosphere of Irish boorishness," said he.
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