ful, and where my courage and honour are not questioned."
"You are a philosopher, Sir," answered the Solitary, apparently much agitated, "and fitter for the convent, perhaps, than the world, since you can so easily, so tamely, wait for time to elucidate your injuries; but I beg pardon, it cannot concern me; persons born with different sentiments will act differently, and as in this point we do not agree, we will change the subject."
He did so, and Ferdinand found him learned, intelligent, and communicative, yet on every subject he discoursed with a vehemence so little to be expected from the feebleness of his looks and manner when he first appeared at the wicket, discovered a temper so violent and so decided, that his manners rather repulsed than conciliated any growing esteem, and seemed to promise that little pleasure could be derived from cultivating his acquaintance. After some hours conversation the Solitary took him up to the gallery, which was extensive, and had once been magnificent.
