Part 19 (2/2)
”You are making too much conversation out of those two words,”
interrupted Hermione. ”If I let you go on, you will be making puns upon them.”
”You do not like puns?”
”I think nothing is more contemptible.”
”Merely because that way of being funny is grown old-fas.h.i.+oned,” said Cutter. ”Fifty or sixty years ago, a hundred years ago, when a man wanted to be very bitingly sarcastic, he would compose a criticism upon his enemy which was only a long string of abominable puns; each pun was printed in italics. That was thought to be very funny.”
”You would not imitate that sort of fun, would you?” asked Hermione.
”No. You would think it no joke if I did,” answered Cutter, gravely.
”I am not going to laugh,” said Hermione. But she laughed, nevertheless.
”Pray do not laugh if you do not want to,” said Cutter. ”I am used to being thought dull. Your gravity would not wound me though I were chief clown to the whole universe, and yours were the only grave face in the world. By the by, you are laughing, I see. I am much obliged for the appreciation. Shall I go on being funny?”
”Not if you can help it,” said Hermione.
”Do you insinuate that I am naturally an object for laughter?” asked Cutter, smiling. ”Do you mean that 'I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men'? If so, I may yet make you spend a pleasant hour in despite of yourself, without any great effort on my own part. I will sit here, and you shall laugh at me. The morning will pa.s.s very agreeably.”
”I should think you might find something better to do,” returned Hermione. ”But they say that small things amuse great minds.”
”If I had a great mind, do you think I should look upon it as a small thing to be laughed at by you, Miss Carvel?” inquired Cutter, quietly.
”You offer yourself so readily to be my laughing-stock that I am forced to consider what you offer a small thing,” returned his companion.
”You are exceedingly sarcastic. In that case, I have not a great mind, as you supposed.”
”You are fis.h.i.+ng for a compliment, I presume.”
”Perhaps. I wish you would pay me compliments--in earnest. I am vain. I like to be appreciated. You do not like me,--I should like to be liked by you.”
”You are talking nonsense, Professor Cutter,” said the young girl, raising her eyebrows a little. ”If I did not like you, it would be uncivil of you to say you had found it out, unless I treated you rudely.”
”It may be nonsense, Miss Carvel. I speak according to my lights.”
”Then I should say that for a luminary of science your light is very limited,” returned Hermione.
”In future I will hide my light under a bushel, since it displeases you.”
”Something smaller than a bushel would serve the purpose. But it does not please me that you should be in the dark; I would rather you had more light.”
”You have only to look at me,” said the scientist, with a laugh.
”I thought you professed not to make silly compliments. My mother tells me that the true light should come from within,” added Hermione, with a little scorn.
”Religious enthusiasts, who make those phrases, spend their lives in studying themselves,” retorted Cutter. ”They think they see light where they most wish to find it. I spend my time in studying other people.”
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