"What do you see?" asked the Goblin.
"I see a battlemented mediaeval castle. Gallant men in mail ride
over the drawbridge, and kiss their gauntleted fingers to fair
ladies, who wave their lily hands in return. I see fight and fray
and tournament. I hear roaring heralds bawling the charms of
delicate women, and shamelessly proclaiming their lovers. Stay. I
see a Jewess about to leap from a battlement. I see knightly
deeds, violence, rapine, and a good deal of blood. I've seen
pretty much the same at Astley's."
"Look again."
"I see purple moors, glens, masculine women, bare-legged men,
priggish book-worms, more violence, physical excellence, and blood.
Always blood,--and the superiority of physical attainments."
"And how do you feel now?" said the Goblin.
The Haunted Man shrugged his shoulders. "None the better for being
carried back and asked to sympathize with a barbarous age."
The Goblin smiled and clutched his arm; they again sped rapidly
through the black night and again halted.
"What do you see?" said the Goblin.
"I see a barrack room, with a mess table, and a group of
intoxicated Celtic officers telling funny stories, and giving
challenges to duel.
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