“I shall do no such thing,” said Belle, “you have drunk quite enough, and talked more than enough, and to tell you the truth I wish you would leave us alone.”

“Shame on you, Belle,” said I; “consider the obligations of hospitality.”

“I am sick of that word,” said Belle, “you are so frequently misusing it; were this place not Mumpers’ Dingle, and consequently as free to the fellow as ourselves, I would lead him out of it.”

“Pray be quiet, Belle,” said I.  “You had better help yourself,” said I, addressing myself to the man in black, “the lady is angry with you.”

“I am sorry for it,” said the man in black; “if she is angry with me, I am not so with her, and shall be always proud to wait upon her; in the meantime, I will wait upon myself.”

CHAPTER IV

The Proposal—­The Scotch Novel—­Latitude—­Miracles—­Pestilent Heretics—­Old Fraser—­Wonderful Texts—­No Armenian.

The man in black having helped himself to some more of his favourite beverage, and tasted it, I thus addressed him:  “The evening is getting rather advanced, and I can see that this lady,” pointing to Belle, “is anxious for her tea, which she prefers to take cosily and comfortably with me in the dingle:  the place, it is true, is as free to you as to ourselves, nevertheless, as we are located here by necessity, whilst you merely come as a visitor, I must take the liberty of telling you that we shall be glad to be alone, as soon as you have said what you have to say, and have finished the glass of refreshment at present in your hand.  I think you said some time ago that one of your motives for coming hither was to induce me to enlist under the banner of Rome.  I wish to know whether that was really the case?”

“Decidedly so,” said the man in black; “I come here principally in the hope of enlisting you in our regiment, in which I have no doubt you could do us excellent service.”

“Would you enlist my companion as well?” I demanded.

“We should be only too proud to have her among us, whether she comes with you or alone,” said the man in black, with a polite bow to Belle.

“Before we give you an answer,” I replied, “I would fain know more about you; perhaps you will declare your name?”

“That I will never do,” said the man in black; “no one in England knows it but myself, and I will not declare it, even in a dingle; as for the rest, Sono un Prete Cattolico Appostolico—­that is all that many a one of us can say for himself, and it assuredly means a great deal.”

“We will now proceed to business,” said I.  “You must be aware that we English are generally considered a self-interested people.”