You are at my house, you are my guest, I owe you courtesy.

You are at my house, you are my guest, I owe you courtesy. You discuss my ideas, and it becomes me to confine myself to combating your arguments. Your riches and your pleasures are advantages which I hold over you in the debate; but good taste dictates that I shall not make use of them. I promise you to make no use of them in the future." "I thank you," said the Bishop. G---- resumed. "Let us return to the explanation which you have asked of me. Where were we? What were you saying to me? That '93 was inexorable?" "Inexorable; yes," said the Bishop. "What think you of Marat clapping his hands at the guillotine?" "What think you of Bossuet chanting the Te Deum over the dragonnades?" The retort was a harsh one, but it attained its mark with the directness of a point of steel. The Bishop quivered under it; no reply occurred to him; but he was offended by this mode of alluding to Bossuet. The best of minds will have their fetiches, and they sometimes feel vaguely wounded by the want of resp