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Updated: June 10, 2025
I HAVE just heard of Valerius Martial's death, which gives me great concern. He was a man of an acute and lively genius, and his writings abound in equal wit, satir~, and kindliness. On his leaving Rome I made him a present to defray his travelling expenses, which I gave him, not only as a testimony of friendship, but also in return for the verses with which he had complimented me.
"Sorrow has rendered you unjust," said he, gently, "or Monsieur Lacheneur here has told you nothing." "Jean has told me all." "Well, then?" Martial's coolness drove Maurice frantic. "Well," he replied, with extreme violence, "my hatred is unabated even if my scorn is diminished.
But Jean could not resist the temptation to make this response, which was far more insulting than if he had simply said: "We fear informers!" Strange as it may appear to one who knew Martial's proud and violent nature, he did not resent the insult. "So you distrust me!" he said, sadly. Jean Lacheneur was silent another insult.
He began by making himself agreeable to the dowagers, and so from one to another, and from compliment to compliment, he at last reached the empty space next the stranger. At the risk of catching on to the gryphons and chimaeras of the huge candelabrum, he stood there, braving the glare and dropping of the wax candles, to Martial's extreme annoyance.
"I wonder why you decided not to visit the Indian settlement with the others?" she inquired. Nasmyth smiled. "I have been in many places of the kind," he answered. "Besides, there is something I think I ought to tell you." "I almost fancied that was the case." "Then I wonder if you have connected me with Martial's disappearance?" "I may admit that my husband evidently has." "He told you, then?"
You have owed me an opportunity to avenge myself, Monsieur, ever since the day we met on the square at Sairmeuse in the presence of Mademoiselle Lacheneur. You said to me on that occasion: 'We shall meet again. Here we stand now face to face. What insults must I heap upon you to decide you to fight?" A flood of crimson dyed Martial's face.
This prodigious Society of Men may be divided into the Litigious and Peaceable. Under the first are comprehended all those who are carried down in Coach-fulls to Westminster-Hall every Morning in Term-time. Martial's description of this Species of Lawyers is full of Humour: 'Iras et verba locant.
Still Martial's conduct during the past week and Heaven knows with what fidelity her memory recalled each incident was well calculated to reassure her. He had not, it is true, formally declared himself, but it was evident that he was paying his addresses to her. His manner was that of the most respectful, but the most infatuated of lovers.
In the twinkling of an eye Martial's beard fell under the razor; he plunged into the bath that was awaiting him, and his clothing was burned. And it was he who, during the search a few minutes later, had the hardihood to call out: "Otto, by all means allow these men to do their duty." But he did not breathe freely until the agents of police had departed. "At last," he exclaimed, "honor is saved!
"Still, the inference is so flattering that one would naturally feel a little diffident about believing that Martial's suppositions were correct." "That," replied Mrs. Acton, "was tactfully expressed." She looked at the young man fixedly, and her next remark was characterized by the disconcerting frankness which is not unusual in the West. "Mr.
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