He wants to upset shams like our
Socialist writer Gys Grandit. Gys Grandit, you know, will never be
satisfied till, like Rousseau, he has brought about another French
Revolution. He is only a peasant, they say, but he writes with the
pen of a prophet. And this Englishman is of the same calibre,--only
his work is directed against religious hypocrisies more than social
ones. I daresay that is why I always feel so uneasy in his
presence!" And Vergniaud laughed lightly. "For the rest, he is a
brilliant creature enough, and thoroughly manly. The other evening
at the Club that little Vicomte de Lorgne was chattering in his
usual offensive manner about women, and Leigh astonished everyone by
the way in which he pulled him up. There was almost a very pretty
quarrel,--but a stray man happened to mention casually,--that Leigh
was considered one of the finest shots in England. After that the
dear Vicomte vanished, and did not return."
Angela laughed.
"Poor de Lorgne! Yes--I have heard that Mr. Leigh excels in
everything that is distinctly English--riding, shooting, and all
that kind of thing. He is not effeminate."
"Few Englishmen are," said the Abbe,--"And yet to my mind there is
something not altogether English in this man.
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