Faith! one never knows...

my engaging opponent here might desire that I should fight him in green socks, and I that he should wear a scarlet flower in his coat." "The Scarlet Pimpernel, Sir Percy ?" "Why not, Monsieur?
It would look so well in your buttonhole, against the black of the clerical coat, which I understand you sometime affect in France...

and when it is withered and quite dead you would find that it would leave an overpowering odour in your nostrils, far stronger than that of incense." There was general laughter after this.

The hatred which every member of the French revolutionary government--including, of course, ex-Ambassador Chauvelin--bore to the national hero was well known.
"The conditions then, Sir Percy," said Chauvelin, without seeming to notice the taunt conveyed in Blakeney's last words.

"Shall we throw again ?" "After you, sir," acquiesced Sir Percy.
For the third and last time the two opponents rattled the dice-box and threw.