"Rules be d---d," Lydia heard him shouting. "He bit me; and I'll
throw him to--" Then everybody spoke at once; and she could only
conjecture where he would throw him to. He seemed to have no
self-control: Paradise, when he came to himself, behaved better.
Lord Worthington descended into the ring and tried to calm the
hubbub; but Cashel shook his hand fiercely from his arm; menaced a
manager who attempted to call him sternly to order; frantically
pounded his wounded shoulder with his clenched fist, and so outswore
and outwrangled them all, that even Skene began to urge that there
had been enough fuss made. Then Lord Worthington whispered a word
more; and Cashel suddenly subsided, pale and ashamed, and sat down
on a chair in his corner as if to hide himself. Five minutes
afterwards, he stepped out from the crowd with Paradise, and shook
hands with him amid much cheering. Cashel was the humbler of the
two. He did not raise his eyes to the balcony once; and he seemed in
a hurry to retire. But he was intercepted by an officer in uniform,
accompanied by a black chief, who came to conduct him to the dais
and present him to the African king; an honor which he was not
permitted to decline.
The king informed him, through an interpreter, that he had been
unspeakably gratified by what he had just witnessed; expressed great
surprise that Cashel, notwithstanding his prowess, was neither in
the army nor in Parliament; and finally offered to provide him with
three handsome wives if he would come out to Africa in his suite.
Cashel was much embarrassed; but he came off with credit, thanks to
the interpreter, who was accustomed to invent appropriate speeches
for the king on public occasions, and was kind enough to invent
equally appropriate ones for Cashel on this.
Meanwhile, Lord Worthington had returned to his place. "It is all
settled now," he said to Lydia. "Byron shut up when I told him his
aristocratic friends were looking at him; and Paradise has been so
bullied that he is crying in a corner down-stairs. He has
apologized; but he still maintains that he can beat our mutual
friend without the gloves; and his backers apparently think so too,
for it is understood that they are to fight in the autumn for a
thousand a side."
"To fight! Then he has no intention of giving up his profession?"
"No!" said Lord Worthington, astonished. "Why on earth should he
give it up? Paradise's money is as good as in his pocket. You have
seen what he can do."