He would have let all the world stone him, but he could not have borne that his friend should cast even a look of contempt.
"Prosecution!" replied Baroni.

"It is a matter of course, my lord, that Mr.Cecil denies the accusation; it is very wise; the law specially cautions the accused to say nothing to criminate themselves.

But we waste time in words; and, pardon me, if you have your friend's interest at heart, you will withdraw this very stormy championship; this utterly useless opposition to an inevitable line of action.

I must attest Mr.
Cecil; but I am willing--for I know to high families these misfortunes are terribly distressing--to conduct everything with the strictest privacy and delicacy.

In a word, if you and he consult his interests, he will accompany me unresistingly; otherwise I must summon legal force.
Any opposition will only compel a very unseemly encounter of physical force, and with it the publicity I am desirous, for the sake of his relatives and position, to spare him." A dead silence followed his words, the silence that follows on an insult that cannot be averted or avenged; on a thing too hideously shameful for the thoughts to grasp it as reality.
In the first moment of Baroni's words Cecil's eyes had gleamed again with that dark and desperate flash of a passion that would have been worse to face even than his comrade's wrath; it died, however, well-nigh instantly, repressed by a marvelous strength of control, whatever its motive.