Borodino could snuff a bougie at a hundred and fifty yards.
He could beat Bertrand or Alexander Dumas himself with the small-sword:
he was the dragon that watched this pomme d'or, and very few persons
were now inclined to face a champion si redoutable.
Over a salmi d'escargot at the "Coventry," the dandies whom we
introduced in our last volume were assembled, there talking of the
heiress; and her story was told by Franklin Fox to Lord Bagnigge, who,
for a wonder, was interested in the tale. Borodino's pretensions
were discussed, and the way in which the fair Amethyst was confined.
Fitzbattleaxe House, in Belgrave Square, is--as everybody knows--the
next mansion to that occupied by Amethyst. A communication was made
between the two houses. She never went out except accompanied by the
duchess's guard, which it was impossible to overcome.
"Impossible! Nothing's impossible," said Lord Bagnigge.
"I bet you what you like you don't get in," said the young Marquis of
Martingale.
"I bet you a thousand ponies I stop a week in the heiress's house before
the season's over," Lord Bagnigge replied with a yawn; and the bet was
registered with shouts of applause.
But it seemed as if the Fates had determined against Lord Bagnigge, for
the very next day, riding in the Park, his horse fell with him; he
was carried home to his house with a fractured limb and a dislocated
shoulder; and the doctor's bulletins pronounced him to be in the most
dangerous state.
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