Having been apprised that Lord Colambre was a fine scholar, fresh from Cambridge, and being conscious of his own deficiencies of literature, instead of trusting to his natural talents, he summoned to his aid, with no small effort, all the scraps of learning he had acquired in early days, and even brought before the company all the gods and goddesses with whom he had formed an acquaintance at school.  Though embarrassed by this unusual encumbrance of learning, he endeavoured to make all subservient to his immediate design, of paying his court to Lady Clonbrony, by forwarding the object she had most anxiously in view—­the match between her son and Miss Broadhurst.

‘And so, Miss Nugent,’ said he, not daring, with all his assurance, to address himself directly to Lady Clonbrony—­’and so, Miss Nugent, you are going to have great doings, I’m told, and a wonderful grand gala.  There’s nothing in the wide world equal to being in a good, handsome crowd.  No later now than the last ball at the Castle that was before I left Dublin, Miss Nugent—­the apartments, owing to the popularity of my lady-lieutenant, was so throng—­so throng—­that I remember very well, in the doorway, a lady—­and a very genteel woman she was too, though a stranger to me—­saying to me, “Sir, your finger’s in my ear.”  “I know it, madam,” says I, “but I can’t take it out till the crowd give me elbow room.”

’But it’s gala I’m thinking of now.  I hear you are to have the golden Venus, my Lady Clonbrony, won’t you?’

‘Sir!’

This freezing monosyllable notwithstanding, Sir Terence pursued his course fluently.  ’The golden Venus!—­Sure, Miss Nugent, you, that are so quick, can’t but know I would apostrophise Miss Broadhurst that is, but that won’t be long so, I hope.  My Lord Colambre, have you seen much yet of that young lady?’

‘No, sir.’

’Then I hope you won’t be long so.  I hear great talk now of the Venus of Medicis, and the Venus of this and that, with the Florence Venus, and the sable Venus, and that other Venus, that’s washing of her hair, and a hundred other Venuses, some good, some bad.  But, be that as it will, my lord, trust a fool—­ye may, when he tells you truth—­the golden Venus is the only one on earth that can stand, or that will stand, through all ages and temperatures; for gold rules the court, gold rules the camp, and men below, and heaven above.’

‘Heaven above!  Take care, Terry!  Do you know what you’re saying?’ interrupted Lord Clonbrony.

‘Do I?  Don’t I?’ replied Terry.  ’Deny, if you please, my lord, that it was for a golden pippin that the three goddesses fit—­and that the Hippomenes was about golden apples—­and did not Hercules rob a garden for golden apples?—­and did not the pious Eneas himself take a golden branch with him, to make himself welcome to his father in hell?’ said Sir Terence, winking at Lord Colambre.

‘Why, Terry, you know more about books than I should have suspected,’ said Lord Clonbrony.