"
"And who the devil asks for your assurances? It's stark mad ye are
to suppose that I ever needed them."
"Of course you must say that," Samoval insisted, with a confident
and superior smile. He shook his head, his expression one of
amused sorrow. "Sir Terence, you have knocked at the wrong door.
You are youthful at least in your impulsiveness, but you are surely
as blind as old Pantaloon in the comedy or you would see where your
industry would be better employed in shielding your wife's honour
and your own."
Goaded to fury, his blue eyes aflame now with passion, Sir Terence
considered the sleek and subtle gentleman before him, and it was in
that moment that the Count's subtlety soared to its finest heights.
In a flash of inspiration he perceived the advantages to be drawn by
himself from conducting this quarrel to extremes.
This is not mere idle speculation. Knowledge of the real motives
actuating him rests upon the evidence of a letter which Samoval was
to write that same evening to La Fleche - afterwards to be
discovered - wherein he related what had passed, how deliberately
he had steered the matter, and what he meant to do. His object was
no longer the punishing of an affront. That would happen as a mere
incident, a thing done, as it were, in passing.
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