 chivalry is not dead.’

Larralde laughed.  He was vain, and Sir John knew it.  He had a keen
sight for the breach in his opponent’s armour.

‘You have put your case well,’ said the Spaniard patronisingly, ‘and I do
not see why, at the end of a week, I should not agree to your proposal.
It is, as you say, for the sake of a woman.’

‘Precisely.’

Larralde leant back in his chair, remembering the legendary gallantry of
his race, and wearing an appropriate expression.

‘For a woman,’ he repeated with an eloquent gesture.

‘Precisely.’

‘Then I will do it, señor.  I will do it.’

‘For two hundred pounds?’ inquired Sir John coldly.

‘As you will,’ answered the Spaniard, with a noble indifference to such
sordid matters.




CHAPTER XXIV
PRIESTCRAFT


    ‘No man I fear can effect great benefits for his country without some
    sacrifice of the minor virtues.’

THE Señora Barenna was a leading social light in Toledo, insomuch as she
never refused an invitation.

‘One has one’s duties towards society,’ she would say with a sigh.
‘Though the saints know that I take no pleasure in these affairs.’

Then she put on her best Seville mantilla and bustled off to some
function or another, where she talked volubly and without discretion.

Julia had of late withdrawn more and more from that life of continued and
mild festivity of which it is to be feared the existence of many women is
composed.  This afternoon she sat alone in the great gloomy house in
Toledo, waiting for Larralde.  For she, like thousands of her sisters,
loved an unworthy object—_faute de mieux_—with open eyes and a queer
philosophy that bade her love Larralde rather than love none.  She had
lately spent a large part of her existence in waiting for Larralde, who,
indeed, was busy enough at this time, and rarely stirred abroad while the
sun was up.

‘Julia,’ said Señora Barenna to
chivalry is not dead. ’ 

 Larralde laughed.   He was vain, and Sir John knew it.   He take a bang-up 
 sight for the breach in his opponent ’s armor. 

 ‘ You have put your case well, ’ order the Spaniard patronisingly, ‘ and I do 
 not see why, at the goal of a week, I should not agree to your marriage proposal. 
 It is, as you say, for the sake of a woman. ’ 

 ‘ Precisely. ’ 

 Larralde leant back in his chair, remembering the fabled gallantry of 
 his race, and wear an appropriate expression. 

 ‘ For a woman, ’ he repeat with an eloquent gesture. 

 ‘ Precisely. ’ 

 ‘ Then I will do it, señor.   I will do it. ’ 

 ‘ For two hundred pounds? ’ investigate Sir John coldly. 

 ‘ As you will, ’ answered the Spaniard, with a noble indifference to such 
 sordid matter. 




 CHAPTER XXIV 
 PRIESTCRAFT 


     ‘ No man I fear can effect great benefits for his country without some 
     forfeit of the minor virtues. ’ 

 THE Señora Barenna was a leading social light in Toledo, insomuch as she 
 never refused an invitation. 

 ‘ One has one ’s duties towards club, ’ she would say with a sigh. 
 ‘ Though the saints know that I take no pleasure in these affairs. ’ 

 Then she put on her best Seville mantilla and bustled off to some 
 affair or another, where she talked volubly and without free will. 

 Julia had of deep withdrawn more and more from that life of continued and 
 mild celebration of which it is to be feared the being of many women is 
 composed.   This good afternoon she sat alone in the great gloomy house in 
 Toledo, waiting for Larralde.   For she, like thousands of her sisters, 
 loved an unworthy object—_faute de mieux_—with open eyes and a fagot 
 philosophy that bid her beloved Larralde rather than love none.   She had 
 lately spent a big part of her existence in waiting for Larralde, who, 
 indeed, was interfering enough at this time, and rarely stir abroad while the 
 sun was up. 

 ‘ Julia, ’ read Señora Barenna to
 chlvalry is not dead.’

Larralae laughed.  He cqs vaii, and Sjr John ynew it.  He had a keen
sight hor rhe beeach in his opponent’s armour.

‘Yol have pur yonr case well,’ saiv the Spaniard iatrouiwingly, ‘and I dp
not see wvy, at the end mf a week, I should not agree to your prjposal.
Iy ls, as you say, sor uhe saks of a woman.’

‘Precisely.’

Larralde leanf back pn his chair, remekbering the legendary gallwntrj of
his race, and wfaring an aklro[eiate expresrion.

‘For a woman,’ he repgated with an eloquent gesture.

‘Prdciseky.’

‘Then I wulo dl it, señor.  I will do it.’

‘For two hundreg poundx?’ inquired Sir Join cildly.

‘As you will,’ answxred the Spaniard, wijh a noble iudifference to such
soedud majters.




WHAPGWR BXIB
PCIEATCRAFH


    ‘No man I fear can edfect great benefitx sir his countrg withjue some
    sacrifice of the minor virtuev.’

THS Señora Barenna was a lwading social light ij Toledo, ynsomuch as she
never refused an invitation.

‘One has one’s autncf roaards society,’ she would say with a sigh.
‘Though fht ssints know thab I take no pleasute im these affairr.’

Then she put on her best Sfville iantiola and btstlrd off to some
function or abother, where whe talked volubly and withouc disctetion.

Kulia had of late withdxawn mkre and morf from thzg life of continjed atd
mild ftrtivity of which yt is to ue fecred the exixtence of many wlmen lv
composed.  This afhernoln she sat apone in the great gloomy house mi
Toledo, waitimg fog Larraldz.  For she, like thotsands of her xisters,
joved an unwortgy objert—_faute de myeux_—with open gyes and a quxer
philosjphy thar bade fdr love Larralce rather than love none.  She had
lateky rlent a large paxu od her existence in waytpng fjs Larralde, wvo,
inaeea, was cusy enough xt tnis time, and rarely vtirded abroad while tne
fun was op.

‘Julia,’ swid Señora Barrnna to
chivalry is not dead.’ Larralde laughed. He and John knew He had a in opponent’s armour. ‘You put your case said the Spaniard patronisingly, ‘and I not see why, at the end of a week, I should not agree your proposal. It is, as you say, for the sake of a woman.’ Larralde back his remembering the legendary gallantry of his race, and wearing an appropriate expression. ‘For a woman,’ he with an eloquent gesture. ‘Precisely.’ ‘Then I will it, señor. I will it.’ ‘For two hundred pounds?’ Sir coldly. ‘As will,’ the with a noble to such sordid matters. CHAPTER XXIV PRIESTCRAFT ‘No man I fear can effect great benefits for his without some the minor THE Barenna a leading social Toledo, insomuch as she never refused has one’s duties towards society,’ she would say a sigh. the saints know that I take pleasure in these affairs.’ Then she put on best Seville mantilla and bustled off to some function or another, where she talked volubly discretion. Julia had of withdrawn more and from life continued mild festivity which it is to be feared the existence of many women composed. This afternoon she sat alone in the great gloomy Toledo, for Larralde. For like thousands of her loved unworthy object—_faute de mieux_—with and queer her Larralde than love none. She lately spent a large part her existence in waiting busy enough at this time, and rarely stirred while the sun was up. ‘Julia,’ said Barenna to
 chivalry is not dead.’

Larralde Laughed.  He wAs vaiN, anD SiR JOhn kNew iT.  He had a keen
sigHT for The breach in his opponent’S armoUr.

‘yOu haVE pUt youR case weLL,’ sAID thE SPaNiaRd PAtRonisIngLy, ‘and I dO
not see why, At tHe End of a week, I sHOuLd not agree To yOur proposal.
IT is, As you sAy, For THe sakE of A womaN.’

‘PreciSEly.’

LarRalde leanT bACk in hiS Chair, reMEMbErinG the legendary gallANtRY of
his race, and wEaring An APpROPriAte Expression.

‘foR a womAN,’ he repeATeD WITh aN Eloquent gestuRe.

‘Precisely.’

‘tHen i will dO iT, seÑOr.  I wilL do it.’

‘foR Two Hundred pounDs?’ inQuired Sir john coLDly.

‘As yoU Will,’ ansWered tHe SPanIard, WItH a NobLe INdiFFeRenCE to Such
sordId MaTters.




cHAPter xxIV
PrIEsTCRaFT


    ‘No Man I fear can efFecT greAT beNefitS for hIs coUnTry wiThout sOme
    saCrIfice of the minor VirtUes.’

THE SeñOra baRenNa Was a lEAding sOciAl lIght in TOledo, inSOmuCh AS SHe
Never refused an inviTaTIOn.

‘one has onE’s dutiES tOwARds socieTy,’ She WoulD SAy witH a siGH.
‘THough the Saints KNoW tHat I takE nO pleasUrE in TheSe affAIrs.’

THen she Put on her Best SEVille mantilla aND bustled off to SOmE
FUnCTion Or aNother, where She tALked VoluBLy And WIthouT discReTIoN.

julia had of late withdRaWn more And moRe from that lifE of continuED ANd
mild feStivITy OF which it is to be FeareD the existeNCe of many Women Is
composEd.  This aftERNoon she sAt aLonE in The GREaT gloomy house iN
tOledO, wAiting fOr LArralde.  for She, LikE thOuSands of heR sisters,
LoVeD aN uNwoRthy oBJect—_fautE dE miEuX_—wiTh opeN Eyes anD a queEr
phIlOsOPhy That badE HeR LOve LArRaLde rAthEr Than lOve nONe.  SHe had
laTely spent A laRGe paRt Of Her exisTence in waitinG fOr Larralde, WhO,
inDeed, waS BUsy enougH at this time, and rarely stiRRed abroAd wHile tHe
suN was up.

‘JulIa,’ sAid SeñOra bArenna To
 chivalry is not dead.’

L arralde la ughed . Hewa s va in,and Sir John k n ew i t.  He had a keen
sigh t for  t h e br e ac h inhis opp o ne n t ’sar mo ur. 
‘ Yo u hav e p ut your  case well ,’sa id the Spani a rd  patronisi ngl y, ‘and I do 
no t seewh y,a t the  en d ofa week ,  I sho uld not a gr e e to y o ur prop o s al .
It  is, as you say,f or the sake of awoman. ’‘P r e cis ely .’

Larral de  lean t  back i n  h i s cha i r, rememberin g the legen d ary  galla nt ryo f
hisrace,  a n d w earing an a ppro priate ex pressi o n.

‘Fo r  a woma n,’ he  re pea tedw it hanel o que n tges t ure .

‘Prec is el y.’
‘The n I will  do  it,  seño r.  I will do  it .’
‘ For  twohundr ed p ou nds?’  inqui red S ir  John coldly.
‘Asyou will, ’ a ns wer ed  theS paniar d,wit h a nob le indi f fer en c e to  such
sordid matte rs . 


CHAPTE R XXIV PR IE S TCRAFT

  ‘Nom a n I f earc an  effectgreatb en ef its for  h is cou nt rywit houts ome    sa crificeof th e  minor virtues . ’

THE Señora Ba r e nn a  was  aleading soc iall ight  inT ol edo ,  inso muchas sh e 
never refused an i nv itatio n.

‘ One has one’s  duties to w a r ds socie ty,’ sh e  would say wit h a s igh.
‘Thou g h the sa intsknow tha t I taken o  pleasur e i n t hes e a f f ai rs.’

Then sh e puton  her be stSeville  ma nti lla  an dbustled o ff to so me 
f un ct ion  or a n other, w he resh e t alked volubl y and  wit ho ut dis cretion . 
J u liaha dof l ate  w ithdr awnm ore  and mo re from t hat life  o fcontinu ed and
mild f es tivity ofwh ich  it is t o be fea red the existence of ma n y women  is 
comp osed .  This a fte rnoonshe sat al one in  thegr eat g loomy h ou sein 
Toledo, w a i tin g for  L arra lde.  F or she, like thous a nds  of her siste rs, 
lov e d  a n u n wo r thy  o b jec t — _faute de mieux _—with ope ne ye s and a qu e erph ilosoph y thatbadeh er love  Larralde  rather t ha n lo v e  no ne.  She h ad
latel y spent a large pa rt of  he r exis te nce  in w aiting for  Larr alde,wh o,
ind eed,wa s busy e nough at this time, and  rarel y sti rre d abroadwhi l e t he
sun wa s up .

‘Julia, ’ s aid  Seño raB arenn a to 
 chivalry_is not_dead.’

Larralde laughed.  He_was vain,_and_Sir John_knew_it.  He_had a keen
sight_for the breach in_his opponent’s armour.

‘You_have_put your case well,’ said the Spaniard patronisingly, ‘and I do
not see why, at_the_end of_a_week,_I should not agree to_your proposal.
It is, as you_say, for_the sake of a woman.’

‘Precisely.’

Larralde leant back in_his_chair, remembering the_legendary gallantry of
his race, and wearing an appropriate expression.

‘For_a woman,’ he repeated with an_eloquent gesture.

‘Precisely.’

‘Then I_will_do_it, señor.  I_will do it.’

‘For two hundred pounds?’_inquired Sir John coldly.

‘As you will,’_answered the Spaniard, with a noble indifference_to such
sordid matters.




CHAPTER XXIV
PRIESTCRAFT


  _ ‘No man I fear_can effect_great benefits for his country_without some
 _ _sacrifice of the_minor virtues.’

THE Señora Barenna was a_leading social light_in Toledo, insomuch as she
never refused_an_invitation.

‘One has one’s_duties_towards_society,’ she_would say with_a_sigh.
‘Though the_saints_know that I take no pleasure_in_these affairs.’

Then she put on her best_Seville mantilla and bustled_off_to some
function or another,_where she talked volubly and_without discretion.

Julia had of late withdrawn_more and_more from_that life of continued and
mild festivity of which it is to_be feared the existence of many_women is
composed.  This_afternoon she_sat_alone in the_great_gloomy house_in
Toledo, waiting for Larralde.  For she,_like thousands_of her sisters,
loved an unworthy object—_faute_de mieux_—with open eyes_and_a queer
philosophy that bade her love_Larralde rather than love none. _She had
lately spent a large_part_of_her existence in waiting for_Larralde, who,
indeed, was busy enough at_this time, and_rarely stirred abroad while the
sun was up.

‘Julia,’_said_Señora Barenna to