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Updated: June 29, 2025
"Indeed," said the marquis, courteously, but without yielding an inch, "it is a very reassuring fable: for," he continued, meditatively, "were the eyes of all lovers suddenly opened, Master Mervale, I suspect it would prove a red hour for the world. There would be both tempers and reputations lost, Master Mervale; there would be sword-thrusts; there would be corpses, Master Mervale."
The devil, as they say, is homelier with that sex." "There also be swords in the world, Master Mervale?" purred the marquis. He touched his own sword as he spoke. "My lord !" the boy cried, with a gasp. "Now, swords have at least three uses, Master Mervale," Falmouth continued.
"I would suggest," said the marquis, "that my name is Stephen; but why, in the devil's name, should you give up a quest so laudable?" "Stephen Allonby, my lord," said Master Mervale, sadly, "was not Marquis of Falmouth; as Marquis of Falmouth, you might look to mate with any woman short of the Queen."
Master Mervale rested his head upon Lord Falmouth's shoulder, and sighed happily. Master Mervale laughed, a low and gentle laugh that was vibrant with content. But Master Mervale said nothing, because there seemed to be between these two, who were young in the world's recaptured youth, no longer any need of idle speaking.
Her family was good, but their deserts outranked their fortunes; their crest was not the topmost feather in Fortune's cap, you understand; somewhat sunken i' the world, Master Mervale, somewhat sunken. And I? My father God rest his bones! was a cold, hard man, and my two elder brothers Holy Virgin, pray for them! loved me none too well.
I wear steel at my side, Master Mervale, that will serve for other purposes save that of opening oysters!" So he blustered in the spring sunlight, and frowned darkly when Master Mervale appeared the more amused than impressed. "Your patience shames Job the Patriarch," said Master Mervale, "yet, it seems to me, my lord, you do not consider one thing.
"To tell you a secret," the marquis whispered, "I look to mate with one beside whom the Queen not to speak treason is but a lean-faced, yellow piece of affectation. I aim higher than royalty, heart's dearest, aspiring to one beside whom empresses are but common hussies." "And Ursula?" asked Master Mervale, gently. "Holy Gregory!" cried the marquis, "I had forgot! Poor wench, poor wench!
"There also be women in the world, Master Mervale," Lord Falmouth suggested, with a deeper gravity, "that are but the handsome sepulchres of iniquity, ay, and for the major part of women, those miracles which are their bodies, compact of white and gold and sprightly color though they be, serve as the lovely cerements of corruption." "Doubtless, my lord.
Draw, Master Mervale!" cried the marquis, his light hair falling about his flushed, handsome face as he laughed joyously, and flashed his sword in the spring sunshine. The boy sprang back, with an inarticulate cry; then gulped some dignity into himself and spoke. "My lord," he said, "I admit that explanation may seem necessary."
Left to themselves, the Marquis of Falmouth and Master Richard Mervale regarded each the other, irresolutely, like strange curs uncertain whether to fraternize or to fly at one another's throat. Then Master Mervale lay down in the young grass, stretched himself, twirled his thin black mustachios, and chuckled in luxurious content.
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