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A Computational Introduction to Number Theory
and Algebra

(Version 2)

Victor Shoup
This PDF document contains hyperlinks, and one may navigate through it by click-
ing on theorem, definition, lemma, equation, and page numbers, as well as URLs,
and chapter and section titles in the table of contents; most PDF viewers should
also display a list of “bookmarks” that allow direct access to chapters and sections.
Copyright © 2008 by Victor Shoup <[email protected]>

The electronic version of this work is distributed under the terms and conditions of
a Creative Commons license (Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0):
You are free to copy, distribute, and display the electronic version
of this work under the following conditions:
Attribution. You must give the original author credit.
Noncommercial. You may not use the electronic version of this
work for commercial purposes.
No Derivative Works. You may not alter, transform, or build upon
the electronic version of this work.

For any reuse or distribution, you must make these license terms
clear to others.
Any of these conditions can be waived if you get permission from
the author.

For more information about the license, visit

creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd-nc/3.0.

All other rights reserved. In particular, the right to publish or distribute this work
in print form belongs exclusively to Cambridge University Press.
 Contents

Preface page x
Preliminaries xiv
1 Basic properties of the integers 1
1.1 Divisibility and primality 1
1.2 Ideals and greatest common divisors 5
1.3 Some consequences of unique factorization 10
2 Congruences 15
2.1 Equivalence relations 15
2.2 Definitions and basic properties of congruences 16
2.3 Solving linear congruences 19
2.4 The Chinese remainder theorem 22
2.5 Residue classes 25
2.6 Euler’s phi function 31
2.7 Euler’s theorem and Fermat’s little theorem 32
2.8 Quadratic residues 35
2.9 Summations over divisors 45
3 Computing with large integers 50
3.1 Asymptotic notation 50
3.2 Machine models and complexity theory 53
3.3 Basic integer arithmetic 55
3.4 Computing in Zn 64
3.5 Faster integer arithmetic (∗) 69
3.6 Notes 71
4 Euclid’s algorithm 74
4.1 The basic Euclidean algorithm 74
4.2 The extended Euclidean algorithm 77
4.3 Computing modular inverses and Chinese remaindering 82

v
vi Contents

4.4 Speeding up algorithms via modular computation 84

4.5 An effective version of Fermat’s two squares theorem 86
4.6 Rational reconstruction and applications 89
4.7 The RSA cryptosystem 99
4.8 Notes 102
5 The distribution of primes 104
5.1 Chebyshev’s theorem on the density of primes 104
5.2 Bertrand’s postulate 108
5.3 Mertens’ theorem 110
5.4 The sieve of Eratosthenes 115
5.5 The prime number theorem . . . and beyond 116
5.6 Notes 124
6 Abelian groups 126
6.1 Definitions, basic properties, and examples 126
6.2 Subgroups 132
6.3 Cosets and quotient groups 137
6.4 Group homomorphisms and isomorphisms 142
6.5 Cyclic groups 153
6.6 The structure of finite abelian groups (∗) 163
7 Rings 166
7.1 Definitions, basic properties, and examples 166
7.2 Polynomial rings 176
7.3 Ideals and quotient rings 185
7.4 Ring homomorphisms and isomorphisms 192
7.5 The structure of Z∗n 203
8 Finite and discrete probability distributions 207
8.1 Basic definitions 207
8.2 Conditional probability and independence 213
8.3 Random variables 221
8.4 Expectation and variance 233
8.5 Some useful bounds 241
8.6 Balls and bins 245
8.7 Hash functions 252
8.8 Statistical distance 260
8.9 Measures of randomness and the leftover hash lemma (∗) 266
8.10 Discrete probability distributions 270
8.11 Notes 275
 Contents vii

9 Probabilistic algorithms 277

9.1 Basic definitions 278
9.2 Generating a random number from a given interval 285
9.3 The generate and test paradigm 287
9.4 Generating a random prime 292
9.5 Generating a random non-increasing sequence 295
9.6 Generating a random factored number 298
9.7 Some complexity theory 302
9.8 Notes 304
10 Probabilistic primality testing 306
10.1 Trial division 306
10.2 The Miller–Rabin test 307
10.3 Generating random primes using the Miller–Rabin test 311
10.4 Factoring and computing Euler’s phi function 320
10.5 Notes 324
11 Finding generators and discrete logarithms in Z∗p 327
11.1 Finding a generator for Z∗p 327
11.2 Computing discrete logarithms in Z∗p 329
11.3 The Diffie–Hellman key establishment protocol 334
11.4 Notes 340
12 Quadratic reciprocity and computing modular square roots 342
12.1 The Legendre symbol 342
12.2 The Jacobi symbol 346
12.3 Computing the Jacobi symbol 348
12.4 Testing quadratic residuosity 349
12.5 Computing modular square roots 350
12.6 The quadratic residuosity assumption 355
12.7 Notes 357
13 Modules and vector spaces 358
13.1 Definitions, basic properties, and examples 358
13.2 Submodules and quotient modules 360
13.3 Module homomorphisms and isomorphisms 363
13.4 Linear independence and bases 367
13.5 Vector spaces and dimension 370
14 Matrices 377
14.1 Basic definitions and properties 377
14.2 Matrices and linear maps 381
14.3 The inverse of a matrix 386
viii Contents

14.4 Gaussian elimination 388

14.5 Applications of Gaussian elimination 392
14.6 Notes 398
15 Subexponential-time discrete logarithms and factoring 399
15.1 Smooth numbers 399
15.2 An algorithm for discrete logarithms 400
15.3 An algorithm for factoring integers 407
15.4 Practical improvements 414
15.5 Notes 418
16 More rings 421
16.1 Algebras 421
16.2 The field of fractions of an integral domain 427
16.3 Unique factorization of polynomials 430
16.4 Polynomial congruences 435
16.5 Minimal polynomials 438
16.6 General properties of extension fields 440
16.7 Formal derivatives 444
16.8 Formal power series and Laurent series 446
16.9 Unique factorization domains (∗) 451
16.10 Notes 464
17 Polynomial arithmetic and applications 465
17.1 Basic arithmetic 465
17.2 Computing minimal polynomials in F [X ]/(f )(I) 468
17.3 Euclid’s algorithm 469
17.4 Computing modular inverses and Chinese remaindering 472
17.5 Rational function reconstruction and applications 474
17.6 Faster polynomial arithmetic (∗) 478
17.7 Notes 484
18 Linearly generated sequences and applications 486
18.1 Basic definitions and properties 486
18.2 Computing minimal polynomials: a special case 490
18.3 Computing minimal polynomials: a more general case 492
18.4 Solving sparse linear systems 497
18.5 Computing minimal polynomials in F [X ]/(f )(II) 500
18.6 The algebra of linear transformations (∗) 501
18.7 Notes 508
19 Finite fields 509
19.1 Preliminaries 509
 Contents ix

19.2 The existence of finite fields 511

19.3 The subfield structure and uniqueness of finite fields 515
19.4 Conjugates, norms and traces 516
20 Algorithms for finite fields 522
20.1 Tests for and constructing irreducible polynomials 522
20.2 Computing minimal polynomials in F [X ]/(f )(III) 525
20.3 Factoring polynomials: square-free decomposition 526
20.4 Factoring polynomials: the Cantor–Zassenhaus algorithm 530
20.5 Factoring polynomials: Berlekamp’s algorithm 538
20.6 Deterministic factorization algorithms (∗) 544
20.7 Notes 546
21 Deterministic primality testing 548
21.1 The basic idea 548
21.2 The algorithm and its analysis 549
21.3 Notes 558
Appendix: Some useful facts 561
Bibliography 566
Index of notation 572
Index 574
 Preface

Number theory and algebra play an increasingly significant role in computing

and communications, as evidenced by the striking applications of these subjects
to such fields as cryptography and coding theory. My goal in writing this book
was to provide an introduction to number theory and algebra, with an emphasis
on algorithms and applications, that would be accessible to a broad audience. In
particular, I wanted to write a book that would be appropriate for typical students in
computer science or mathematics who have some amount of general mathematical
experience, but without presuming too much specific mathematical knowledge.
Prerequisites. The mathematical prerequisites are minimal: no particular math-
ematical concepts beyond what is taught in a typical undergraduate calculus
sequence are assumed.
The computer science prerequisites are also quite minimal: it is assumed that the
reader is proficient in programming, and has had some exposure to the analysis of
algorithms, essentially at the level of an undergraduate course on algorithms and
data structures.
Even though it is mathematically quite self contained, the text does presup-
pose that the reader is comfortable with mathematical formalism and also has
some experience in reading and writing mathematical proofs. Readers may have
gained such experience in computer science courses such as algorithms, automata
or complexity theory, or some type of “discrete mathematics for computer science
students” course. They also may have gained such experience in undergraduate
mathematics courses, such as abstract or linear algebra. The material in these math-
ematics courses may overlap with some of the material presented here; however,
even if the reader already has had some exposure to this material, it nevertheless
may be convenient to have all of the relevant topics easily accessible in one place;
moreover, the emphasis and perspective here will no doubt be different from that
in a traditional mathematical presentation of these subjects.

x
 Preface xi

Structure of the text. All of the mathematics required beyond basic calculus
is developed “from scratch.” Moreover, the book generally alternates between
“theory” and “applications”: one or two chapters on a particular set of purely
mathematical concepts are followed by one or two chapters on algorithms and
applications; the mathematics provides the theoretical underpinnings for the appli-
cations, while the applications both motivate and illustrate the mathematics. Of
course, this dichotomy between theory and applications is not perfectly main-
tained: the chapters that focus mainly on applications include the development
of some of the mathematics that is specific to a particular application, and very
occasionally, some of the chapters that focus mainly on mathematics include a
discussion of related algorithmic ideas as well.
In developing the mathematics needed to discuss certain applications, I have
tried to strike a reasonable balance between, on the one hand, presenting the abso-
lute minimum required to understand and rigorously analyze the applications, and
on the other hand, presenting a full-blown development of the relevant mathemat-
ics. In striking this balance, I wanted to be fairly economical and concise, while at
the same time, I wanted to develop enough of the theory so as to present a fairly
well-rounded account, giving the reader more of a feeling for the mathematical
“big picture.”
The mathematical material covered includes the basics of number theory
(including unique factorization, congruences, the distribution of primes, and
quadratic reciprocity) and of abstract algebra (including groups, rings, fields, and
vector spaces). It also includes an introduction to discrete probability theory — this
material is needed to properly treat the topics of probabilistic algorithms and cryp-
tographic applications. The treatment of all these topics is more or less standard,
except that the text only deals with commutative structures (i.e., abelian groups and
commutative rings with unity) — this is all that is really needed for the purposes of
this text, and the theory of these structures is much simpler and more transparent
than that of more general, non-commutative structures.
The choice of topics covered in this book was motivated primarily by their
applicability to computing and communications, especially to the specific areas
of cryptography and coding theory. Thus, the book may be useful for reference
or self-study by readers who want to learn about cryptography, or it could also be
used as a textbook in a graduate or upper-division undergraduate course on (com-
putational) number theory and algebra, perhaps geared towards computer science
students.
Since this is an introduction, and not an encyclopedic reference for specialists,
some topics simply could not be covered. One such, whose exclusion will undoubt-
edly be lamented by some, is the theory of lattices, along with algorithms for and
applications of lattice basis reduction. Another omission is fast algorithms for
xii Preface

integer and polynomial arithmetic — although some of the basic ideas of this topic
are developed in the exercises, the main body of the text deals only with classical,
quadratic-time algorithms for integer and polynomial arithmetic. However, there
are more advanced texts that cover these topics perfectly well, and they should be
readily accessible to students who have mastered the material in this book.
Note that while continued fractions are not discussed, the closely related prob-
lem of “rational reconstruction” is covered, along with a number of interesting
applications (which could also be solved using continued fractions).
Guidelines for using the text.
• There are a few sections that are marked with a “(∗),” indicating that the
material covered in that section is a bit technical, and is not needed else-
where.
• There are many examples in the text, which form an integral part of the
book, and should not be skipped.
• There are a number of exercises in the text that serve to reinforce, as well
as to develop important applications and generalizations of, the material
presented in the text.
• Some exercises are underlined. These develop important (but usually sim-
ple) facts, and should be viewed as an integral part of the book. It is highly
recommended that the reader work these exercises, or at the very least, read
and understand their statements.
• In solving exercises, the reader is free to use any previously stated results
in the text, including those in previous exercises. However, except where
otherwise noted, any result in a section marked with a “(∗),” or in §5.5,
need not and should not be used outside the section in which it appears.
• There is a very brief “Preliminaries” chapter, which fixes a bit of notation
and recalls a few standard facts. This should be skimmed over by the reader.
• There is an appendix that contains a few useful facts; where such a fact is
used in the text, there is a reference such as “see §An,” which refers to the
item labeled “An” in the appendix.
The second edition. In preparing this second edition, in addition to correcting
errors in the first edition, I have also made a number of other modifications (hope-
fully without introducing too many new errors). Many passages have been rewrit-
ten to improve the clarity of exposition, and many new exercises and examples
have been added. Especially in the earlier chapters, the presentation is a bit more
leisurely. Some material has been reorganized. Most notably, the chapter on prob-
ability now follows the chapters on groups and rings — this allows a number of
examples and concepts in the probability chapter that depend on algebra to be
 Preface xiii

more fully developed. Also, a number of topics have been moved forward in the
text, so as to enliven the material with exciting applications as soon as possible;
for example, the RSA cryptosystem is now described right after Euclid’s algorithm
is presented, and some basic results concerning quadratic residues are introduced
right away, in the chapter on congruences. Finally, there are numerous changes
in notation and terminology; for example, the notion of a family of objects is
now used consistently throughout the book (e.g., a pairwise independent family
of random variables, a linearly independent family of vectors, a pairwise relatively
prime family of integers, etc.).
Feedback. I welcome comments on the book (suggestions for improvement, error
reports, etc.) from readers. Please send your comments to
[email protected].
There is also a web site where further material and information relating to the book
(including a list of errata and the latest electronic version of the book) may be
found:
www.shoup.net/ntb.
Acknowledgments. I would like to thank a number of people who volunteered
their time and energy in reviewing parts of the book at various stages: Joël Alwen,
Siddhartha Annapureddy, John Black, Carl Bosley, Joshua Brody, Jan Camenisch,
David Cash, Sherman Chow, Ronald Cramer, Marisa Debowsky, Alex Dent, Nelly
Fazio, Rosario Gennaro, Mark Giesbrecht, Stuart Haber, Kristiyan Haralambiev,
Gene Itkis, Charanjit Jutla, Jonathan Katz, Eike Kiltz, Alfred Menezes, Ilya
Mironov, Phong Nguyen, Antonio Nicolosi, Roberto Oliveira, Leonid Reyzin,
Louis Salvail, Berry Schoenmakers, Hovav Shacham, Yair Sovran, Panos Toulis,
and Daniel Wichs. A very special thanks goes to George Stephanides, who trans-
lated the first edition of the book into Greek and reviewed the entire book in prepa-
ration for the second edition. I am also grateful to the National Science Foundation
for their support provided under grants CCR-0310297 and CNS-0716690. Finally,
thanks to David Tranah for all his help and advice, and to David and his colleagues
at Cambridge University Press for their progressive attitudes regarding intellectual
property and open access.

New York, June 2008 Victor Shoup

 Preliminaries

We establish here some terminology, notation, and simple facts that will be used
throughout the text.

Logarithms and exponentials

We write log x for the natural logarithm of x, and logb x for the logarithm of x to
the base b.
We write ex for the usual exponential function, where e ≈ 2.71828 is the base of
the natural logarithm. We may also write exp[x] instead of ex .

Sets and families

We use standard set-theoretic notation: ∅ denotes the empty set; x ∈ A means that
x is an element, or member, of the set A; for two sets A, B, A ⊆ B means that
A is a subset of B (with A possibly equal to B), and A ( B means that A is a
proper subset of B (i.e., A ⊆ B but A 6= B). Further, A ∪ B denotes the union of
A and B, A ∩ B the intersection of A and B, and A \ B the set of all elements of
A that are not in B. If A is a set with a finite number of elements, then we write
|A| for its size, or cardinality. We use standard notation for describing sets; for
example, if we define the set S := {−2, −1, 0, 1, 2}, then {x2 : x ∈ S} = {0, 1, 4}
and {x ∈ S : x is even} = {−2, 0, 2}.
We write S1 × · · · × Sn for the Cartesian product of sets S1 , . . . , Sn , which is
the set of all n-tuples (a1 , . . . , an ), where ai ∈ Si for i = 1, . . . , n. We write S ×n for
the Cartesian product of n copies of a set S, and for x ∈ S, we write x×n for the
element of S ×n consisting of n copies of x. (This notation is a bit non-standard,
but we reserve the more standard notation S n for other purposes, so as to avoid
ambiguity.)

xiv
 Preliminaries xv

A family is a collection of objects, indexed by some set I, called an index set.

If for each i ∈ I we have an associated object xi , the family of all such objects
is denoted by {xi }i∈I . Unlike a set, a family may contain duplicates; that is, we
may have xi = xj for some pair of indices i, j with i 6= j. Note that while {xi }i∈I
denotes a family, {xi : i ∈ I} denotes the set whose members are the (distinct)
xi ’s. If the index set I has some natural order, then we may view the family {xi }i∈I
as being ordered in the same way; as a special case, a family indexed by a set of
integers of the form {m, . . . , n} or {m, m+1, . . .} is a sequence, which we may write
as {xi }ni=m or {xi }∞
i=m . On occasion, if the choice of index set is not important, we
may simply define a family by listing or describing its members, without explicitly
describing an index set; for example, the phrase “the family of objects a, b, c” may
be interpreted as “the family {xi }3i=1 , where x1 := a, x2 := b, and x3 := c.”
Unions and intersections may be generalized to arbitrary families of sets. For a
family {Si }i∈I of sets, the union is
[
Si := {x : x ∈ Si for some i ∈ I},
i∈I

and for I 6= ∅, the intersection is

\
Si := {x : x ∈ Si for all i ∈ I}.
i∈I

Note that if I = ∅, the union is by definition ∅, but the intersection is, in general,
not well defined. However, in certain applications, one might define it by a spe-
cial convention; for example, if all sets under consideration are subsets of some
“ambient space,” Ω, then the empty intersection is usually taken to be Ω.
Two sets A and B are called disjoint if A ∩ B = ∅. A family {Si }i∈I of sets is
called pairwise disjoint if Si ∩Sj = ∅ for all i, j ∈ I with i 6= j. A pairwise disjoint
family of non-empty sets whose union is S is called a partition of S; equivalently,
{Si }i∈I is a partition of a set S if each Si is a non-empty subset of S, and each
element of S belongs to exactly one Si .

Numbers
We use standard notation for various sets of numbers:
Z := the set of integers = {. . . , −2, −1, 0, 1, 2, . . .},
Q := the set of rational numbers = {a/b : a, b ∈ Z, b 6= 0},
R := the set of real numbers,
C := the set of complex numbers.
xvi Preliminaries

We sometimes use the symbols ∞ and −∞ in simple arithmetic expressions

involving real numbers. The interpretation given to such expressions should be
obvious: for example, for every x ∈ R, we have −∞ < x < ∞, x + ∞ = ∞,
x − ∞ = −∞, ∞ + ∞ = ∞, and (−∞) + (−∞) = −∞. Expressions such as
x · (±∞) also make sense, provided x 6= 0. However, the expressions ∞ − ∞ and
0 · ∞ have no sensible interpretation.
We use standard notation for specifying intervals of real numbers: for a, b ∈ R
with a ≤ b,
[a, b] := {x ∈ R : a ≤ x ≤ b}, (a, b) := {x ∈ R : a < x < b},
[a, b) := {x ∈ R : a ≤ x < b}, (a, b] := {x ∈ R : a < x ≤ b}.
As usual, this notation is extended to allow a = −∞ for the intervals (a, b] and
(a, b), and b = ∞ for the intervals [a, b) and (a, b).

Functions
We write f : A → B to indicate that f is a function (also called a map) from
a set A to a set B. If A0 ⊆ A, then f (A0 ) := {f (a) : a ∈ A0 } is the image of
A0 under f , and f (A) is simply referred to as the image of f; if B 0 ⊆ B, then
f −1 (B 0 ) := {a ∈ A : f (a) ∈ B 0 } is the pre-image of B 0 under f .
A function f : A → B is called one-to-one or injective if f (a) = f (b) implies
a = b. The function f is called onto or surjective if f (A) = B. The function f
is called bijective if it is both injective and surjective; in this case, f is called a
bijection, or a one-to-one correspondence. If f is bijective, then we may define
the inverse function f −1 : B → A, where for b ∈ B, f −1 (b) is defined to be
the unique a ∈ A such that f (a) = b; in this case, f −1 is also a bijection, and
(f −1 )−1 = f .
If A0 ⊆ A, then the inclusion map from A0 to A is the function i : A0 → A given
by i(a) := a for a ∈ A0 ; when A0 = A, this is called the identity map on A. If
A0 ⊆ A, f 0 : A0 → B, f : A → B, and f 0 (a) = f (a) for all a ∈ A0 , then we say
that f 0 is the restriction of f to A0 , and that f is an extension of f 0 to A.
If f : A → B and g : B → C are functions, their composition is the function
g ◦ f : A → C given by (g ◦ f )(a) := g(f (a)) for a ∈ A. If f : A → B is a
bijection, then f −1 ◦ f is the identity map on A, and f ◦ f −1 is the identity map on
B. Conversely, if f : A → B and g : B → A are functions such that g ◦ f is the
identity map on A and f ◦ g is the identity map on B, then f and g are bijections,
each being the inverse of the other. If f : A → B and g : B → C are bijections,
then so is g ◦ f , and (g ◦ f )−1 = f −1 ◦ g −1 .
Function composition is associative; that is, for all functions f : A → B,
g : B → C, and h : C → D, we have (h ◦ g) ◦ f = h ◦ (g ◦ f ). Thus, we
 Preliminaries xvii

can simply write h ◦ g ◦ f without any ambiguity. More generally, if we have

functions fi : Ai → Ai+1 for i = 1, . . . , n, where n ≥ 2, then we may write their
composition as fn ◦ · · · ◦ f1 without any ambiguity. If each fi is a bijection, then so
is fn ◦ · · · ◦ f1 , its inverse being f1−1 ◦ · · · ◦ fn−1 . As a special case of this, if Ai = A
and fi = f for i = 1, . . . , n, then we may write fn ◦ · · · ◦ f1 as f n . It is understood
that f 1 = f, and that f 0 is the identity map on A. If f is a bijection, then so is f n
for every non-negative integer n, the inverse function of f n being (f −1 )n , which
one may simply write as f −n .
If f : I → S is a function, then we may view f as the family {xi }i∈I , where
xi := f (i). Conversely, a family {xi }i∈I , where all of the xi ’s belong to some set
S, may be viewed as the function f : I → S given by f (i) := xi for i ∈ I. Really,
functions and families are the same thing, the difference being just one of notation
and emphasis.

Binary operations
A binary operation ? on a set S is a function from S × S to S, where the value
of the function at (a, b) ∈ S × S is denoted a ? b.
A binary operation ? on S is called associative if for all a, b, c ∈ S, we have
(a ? b) ? c = a ? (b ? c). In this case, we can simply write a ? b ? c without
any ambiguity. More generally, for a1 , . . . , an ∈ S, where n ≥ 2, we can write
a1 ? · · · ? an without any ambiguity.
A binary operation ? on S is called commutative if for all a, b ∈ S, we have
a?b = b?a. If the binary operation ? is both associative and commutative, then not
only is the expression a1 ? · · · ? an unambiguous, but its value remains unchanged
even if we re-order the ai ’s.
If ? is a binary operation on S, and S 0 ⊆ S, then S 0 is called closed under ? if
a ? b ∈ S 0 for all a, b ∈ S 0 .
 1
Basic properties of the integers

This chapter discusses some of the basic properties of the integers, including the
notions of divisibility and primality, unique factorization into primes, greatest com-
mon divisors, and least common multiples.

1.1 Divisibility and primality

A central concept in number theory is divisibility.
Consider the integers Z = {. . . , −2, −1, 0, 1, 2, . . .}. For a, b ∈ Z, we say that a
divides b if az = b for some z ∈ Z. If a divides b, we write a | b, and we may say
that a is a divisor of b, or that b is a multiple of a, or that b is divisible by a. If a
does not divide b, then we write a - b.
We first state some simple facts about divisibility:
Theorem 1.1. For all a, b, c ∈ Z, we have
(i) a | a, 1 | a, and a | 0;
(ii) 0 | a if and only if a = 0;
(iii) a | b if and only if −a | b if and only if a | −b;
(iv) a | b and a | c implies a | (b + c);
(v) a | b and b | c implies a | c.
Proof. These properties can be easily derived from the definition of divisibility,
using elementary algebraic properties of the integers. For example, a | a because
we can write a · 1 = a; 1 | a because we can write 1 · a = a; a | 0 because we can
write a·0 = 0. We leave it as an easy exercise for the reader to verify the remaining
properties. 2
We make a simple observation: if a | b and b 6= 0, then 1 ≤ |a| ≤ |b|. Indeed,
if az = b 6= 0 for some integer z, then a 6= 0 and z 6= 0; it follows that |a| ≥ 1,
|z| ≥ 1, and so |a| ≤ |a||z| = |b|.

1
2 Basic properties of the integers

Theorem 1.2. For all a, b ∈ Z, we have a | b and b | a if and only if a = ±b. In

particular, for every a ∈ Z, we have a | 1 if and only if a = ±1.

Proof. Clearly, if a = ±b, then a | b and b | a. So let us assume that a | b and

b | a, and prove that a = ±b. If either of a or b are zero, then the other must be zero
as well. So assume that neither is zero. By the above observation, a | b implies
|a| ≤ |b|, and b | a implies |b| ≤ |a|; thus, |a| = |b|, and so a = ±b. That proves the
first statement. The second statement follows from the first by setting b := 1, and
noting that 1 | a. 2
The product of any two non-zero integers is again non-zero. This implies the
usual cancellation law: if a, b, and c are integers such that a 6= 0 and ab = ac, then
we must have b = c; indeed, ab = ac implies a(b − c) = 0, and so a 6= 0 implies
b − c = 0, and hence b = c.
Primes and composites. Let n be a positive integer. Trivially, 1 and n divide n.
If n > 1 and no other positive integers besides 1 and n divide n, then we say n is
prime. If n > 1 but n is not prime, then we say that n is composite. The number 1
is not considered to be either prime or composite. Evidently, n is composite if and
only if n = ab for some integers a, b with 1 < a < n and 1 < b < n. The first few
primes are
2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, . . . .
While it is possible to extend the definition of prime and composite to negative
integers, we shall not do so in this text: whenever we speak of a prime or composite
number, we mean a positive integer.
A basic fact is that every non-zero integer can be expressed as a signed product
of primes in an essentially unique way. More precisely:

Theorem 1.3 (Fundamental theorem of arithmetic). Every non-zero integer n

can be expressed as
e e
n = ±p11 · · · prr ,
where p1 , . . . , pr are distinct primes and e1 , . . . , er are positive integers. Moreover,
this expression is unique, up to a reordering of the primes.

Note that if n = ±1 in the above theorem, then r = 0, and the product of zero
terms is interpreted (as usual) as 1.
The theorem intuitively says that the primes act as the “building blocks” out
of which all non-zero integers can be formed by multiplication (and negation).
The reader may be so familiar with this fact that he may feel it is somehow “self
evident,” requiring no proof; however, this feeling is simply a delusion, and most
 1.1 Divisibility and primality 3

of the rest of this section and the next are devoted to developing a proof of this
theorem. We shall give a quite leisurely proof, introducing a number of other very
important tools and concepts along the way that will be useful later.
To prove Theorem 1.3, we may clearly assume that n is positive, since otherwise,
we may multiply n by −1 and reduce to the case where n is positive.
The proof of the existence part of Theorem 1.3 is easy. This amounts to showing
that every positive integer n can be expressed as a product (possibly empty) of
primes. We may prove this by induction on n. If n = 1, the statement is true, as
n is the product of zero primes. Now let n > 1, and assume that every positive
integer smaller than n can be expressed as a product of primes. If n is a prime,
then the statement is true, as n is the product of one prime. Assume, then, that n
is composite, so that there exist a, b ∈ Z with 1 < a < n, 1 < b < n, and n = ab.
By the induction hypothesis, both a and b can be expressed as a product of primes,
and so the same holds for n.
The uniqueness part of Theorem 1.3 is the hard part. An essential ingredient in
this proof is the following:

Theorem 1.4 (Division with remainder property). Let a, b ∈ Z with b > 0.

Then there exist unique q, r ∈ Z such that a = bq + r and 0 ≤ r < b.

Proof. Consider the set S of non-negative integers of the form a − bt with t ∈ Z.

This set is clearly non-empty; indeed, if a ≥ 0, set t := 0, and if a < 0, set t := a.
Since every non-empty set of non-negative integers contains a minimum, we define
r to be the smallest element of S. By definition, r is of the form r = a − bq for
some q ∈ Z, and r ≥ 0. Also, we must have r < b, since otherwise, r − b would be
an element of S smaller than r, contradicting the minimality of r; indeed, if r ≥ b,
then we would have 0 ≤ r − b = a − b(q + 1).
That proves the existence of r and q. For uniqueness, suppose that a = bq + r
and a = bq 0 + r 0 , where 0 ≤ r < b and 0 ≤ r0 < b. Then subtracting these two
equations and rearranging terms, we obtain
r0 − r = b(q − q 0 ).
Thus, r0 − r is a multiple of b; however, 0 ≤ r < b and 0 ≤ r0 < b implies
|r0 − r| < b; therefore, the only possibility is r0 − r = 0. Moreover, 0 = b(q − q 0 )
and b 6= 0 implies q − q 0 = 0. 2
Theorem 1.4 can be visualized as follows:

0 r b 2b 3b a 4b
4 Basic properties of the integers

Starting with a, we subtract (or add, if a is negative) the value b until we end up
with a number in the interval [0, b).
Floors and ceilings. Let us briefly recall the usual floor and ceiling functions,
denoted b·c and d·e, respectively. These are functions from R (the real numbers)
to Z. For x ∈ R, bxc is the greatest integer m ≤ x; equivalently, bxc is the unique
integer m such that m ≤ x < m + 1, or put another way, such that x = m + ε for
some ε ∈ [0, 1). Also, dxe is the smallest integer m ≥ x; equivalently, dxe is the
unique integer m such that m − 1 < x ≤ m, or put another way, such that x = m − ε
for some ε ∈ [0, 1).
The mod operator. Now let a, b ∈ Z with b > 0. If q and r are the unique integers
from Theorem 1.4 that satisfy a = bq + r and 0 ≤ r < b, we define
a mod b := r;
that is, a mod b denotes the remainder in dividing a by b. It is clear that b | a if
and only if a mod b = 0. Dividing both sides of the equation a = bq + r by b, we
obtain a/b = q + r/b. Since q ∈ Z and r/b ∈ [0, 1), we see that q = ba/bc. Thus,
(a mod b) = a − bba/bc.
One can use this equation to extend the definition of a mod b to all integers a and
b, with b 6= 0; that is, for b < 0, we simply define a mod b to be a − bba/bc.
Theorem 1.4 may be generalized so that when dividing an integer a by a positive
integer b, the remainder is placed in an interval other than [0, b). Let x be any
real number, and consider the interval [x, x + b). As the reader may easily verify,
this interval contains precisely b integers, namely, dxe, . . . , dxe + b − 1. Applying
Theorem 1.4 with a − dxe in place of a, we obtain:

Theorem 1.5. Let a, b ∈ Z with b > 0, and let x ∈ R. Then there exist unique
q, r ∈ Z such that a = bq + r and r ∈ [x, x + b).

E XERCISE 1.1. Let a, b, d ∈ Z with d 6= 0. Show that a | b if and only if da | db.

E XERCISE 1.2. Let n be a composite integer. Show that there exists a prime p
dividing n, with p ≤ n1/2 .

E XERCISE 1.3. Let m be a positive integer. Show that for every real number x ≥ 1,
the number of multiples of m in the interval [1, x] is bx/mc; in particular, for every
integer n ≥ 1, the number of multiples of m among 1, . . . , n is bn/mc.

E XERCISE 1.4. Let x ∈ R. Show that 2bxc ≤ b2xc ≤ 2bxc + 1.

 1.2 Ideals and greatest common divisors 5

E XERCISE 1.5. Let x ∈ R and n ∈ Z with n > 0. Show that bbxc/nc = bx/nc; in
particular, bba/bc/cc = ba/bcc for all positive integers a, b, c.

E XERCISE 1.6. Let a, b ∈ Z with b < 0. Show that (a mod b) ∈ (b, 0].

E XERCISE 1.7. Show that Theorem 1.5 also holds for the interval (x, x + b]. Does
it hold in general for the intervals [x, x + b] or (x, x + b)?

1.2 Ideals and greatest common divisors

To carry on with the proof of Theorem 1.3, we introduce the notion of an ideal of
Z, which is a non-empty set of integers that is closed under addition, and closed
under multiplication by an arbitrary integer. That is, a non-empty set I ⊆ Z is an
ideal if and only if for all a, b ∈ I and all z ∈ Z, we have
a + b ∈ I and az ∈ I.
Besides its utility in proving Theorem 1.3, the notion of an ideal is quite useful in
a number of contexts, which will be explored later.
It is easy to see that every ideal I contains 0: since a ∈ I for some integer a,
we have 0 = a · 0 ∈ I. Also, note that if an ideal I contains an integer a, it also
contains −a, since −a = a · (−1) ∈ I. Thus, if an ideal contains a and b, it also
contains a − b. It is clear that {0} and Z are ideals. Moreover, an ideal I is equal
to Z if and only if 1 ∈ I; to see this, note that 1 ∈ I implies that for every z ∈ Z,
we have z = 1 · z ∈ I, and hence I = Z; conversely, if I = Z, then in particular,
1 ∈ I.
For a ∈ Z, define aZ := {az : z ∈ Z}; that is, aZ is the set of all multiples of a.
If a = 0, then clearly aZ = {0}; otherwise, aZ consists of the distinct integers
. . . , −3a, −2a, −a, 0, a, 2a, 3a, . . . .
It is easy to see that aZ is an ideal: for all az, az0 ∈ aZ and z00 ∈ Z, we have
az + az0 = a(z + z0 ) ∈ aZ and (az)z00 = a(zz00 ) ∈ aZ. The ideal aZ is called
the ideal generated by a, and an ideal of the form aZ for some a ∈ Z is called a
principal ideal.
Observe that for all a, b ∈ Z, we have b ∈ aZ if and only if a | b. Also
observe that for every ideal I, we have b ∈ I if and only if bZ ⊆ I. Both of
these observations are simple consequences of the definitions, as the reader may
verify. Combining these two observations, we see that bZ ⊆ aZ if and only if a | b.
Suppose I1 and I2 are ideals. Then it is not hard to see that the set
I1 + I2 := {a1 + a2 : a1 ∈ I1 , a2 ∈ I2 }
6 Basic properties of the integers

is also an ideal. Indeed, suppose a1 + a2 ∈ I1 + I2 and b1 + b2 ∈ I1 + I2 . Then we

have (a1 + a2 ) + (b1 + b2 ) = (a1 + b1 ) + (a2 + b2 ) ∈ I1 + I2 , and for every z ∈ Z,
we have (a1 + a2 )z = a1 z + a2 z ∈ I1 + I2 .

Example 1.1. Consider the principal ideal 3Z. This consists of all multiples of 3;
that is, 3Z = {. . . , −9, −6, −3, 0, 3, 6, 9, . . .}. 2

Example 1.2. Consider the ideal 3Z + 5Z. This ideal contains 3 · 2 + 5 · (−1) = 1.
Since it contains 1, it contains all integers; that is, 3Z + 5Z = Z. 2

Example 1.3. Consider the ideal 4Z + 6Z. This ideal contains 4 · (−1) + 6 · 1 = 2,
and therefore, it contains all even integers. It does not contain any odd integers,
since the sum of two even integers is again even. Thus, 4Z + 6Z = 2Z. 2

In the previous two examples, we defined an ideal that turned out upon closer
inspection to be a principal ideal. This was no accident: the following theorem
says that all ideals of Z are principal.

Theorem 1.6. Let I be an ideal of Z. Then there exists a unique non-negative

integer d such that I = dZ.

Proof. We first prove the existence part of the theorem. If I = {0}, then d = 0
does the job, so let us assume that I 6= {0}. Since I contains non-zero integers, it
must contain positive integers, since if a ∈ I then so is −a. Let d be the smallest
positive integer in I. We want to show that I = dZ.
We first show that I ⊆ dZ. To this end, let a be any element in I. It suffices
to show that d | a. Using the division with remainder property, write a = dq + r,
where 0 ≤ r < d. Then by the closure properties of ideals, one sees that r = a − dq
is also an element of I, and by the minimality of the choice of d, we must have
r = 0. Thus, d | a.
We have shown that I ⊆ dZ. The fact that dZ ⊆ I follows from the fact that
d ∈ I. Thus, I = dZ.
That proves the existence part of the theorem. For uniqueness, note that if
dZ = eZ for some non-negative integer e, then d | e and e | d, from which it
follows by Theorem 1.2 that d = ±e; since d and e are non-negative, we must have
d = e. 2
Greatest common divisors. For a, b ∈ Z, we call d ∈ Z a common divisor of a
and b if d | a and d | b; moreover, we call such a d a greatest common divisor of
a and b if d is non-negative and all other common divisors of a and b divide d.

Theorem 1.7. For all a, b ∈ Z, there exists a unique greatest common divisor d of
a and b, and moreover, aZ + bZ = dZ.
 1.2 Ideals and greatest common divisors 7

Proof. We apply the previous theorem to the ideal I := aZ + bZ. Let d ∈ Z with
I = dZ, as in that theorem. We wish to show that d is a greatest common divisor
of a and b. Note that a, b, d ∈ I and d is non-negative.
Since a ∈ I = dZ, we see that d | a; similarly, d | b. So we see that d is a
common divisor of a and b.
Since d ∈ I = aZ + bZ, there exist s, t ∈ Z such that as + bt = d. Now suppose
a = a0 d0 and b = b0 d0 for some a0 , b0 , d0 ∈ Z. Then the equation as + bt = d implies
that d0 (a0 s + b0 t) = d, which says that d0 | d. Thus, any common divisor d0 of a and
b divides d.
That proves that d is a greatest common divisor of a and b. For uniqueness, note
that if e is a greatest common divisor of a and b, then d | e and e | d, and hence
d = ±e; since both d and e are non-negative by definition, we have d = e. 2
For a, b ∈ Z, we write gcd(a, b) for the greatest common divisor of a and b. We
say that a, b ∈ Z are relatively prime if gcd(a, b) = 1, which is the same as saying
that the only common divisors of a and b are ±1.
The following is essentially just a restatement of Theorem 1.7, but we state it
here for emphasis:

Theorem 1.8. Let a, b, r ∈ Z and let d := gcd(a, b). Then there exist s, t ∈ Z such
that as + bt = r if and only if d | r. In particular, a and b are relatively prime if
and only if there exist integers s and t such that as + bt = 1.

Proof. We have
as + bt = r for some s, t ∈ Z
⇐⇒ r ∈ aZ + bZ
⇐⇒ r ∈ dZ (by Theorem 1.7)
⇐⇒ d | r.
That proves the first statement. The second statement follows from the first, setting
r := 1. 2
Note that as we have defined it, gcd(0, 0) = 0. Also note that when at least one
of a or b are non-zero, gcd(a, b) may be characterized as the largest positive integer
that divides both a and b, and as the smallest positive integer that can be expressed
as as + bt for integers s and t.

Theorem 1.9. Let a, b, c ∈ Z such that c | ab and gcd(a, c) = 1. Then c | b.

Proof. Suppose that c | ab and gcd(a, c) = 1. Then since gcd(a, c) = 1, by

Theorem 1.8 we have as + ct = 1 for some s, t ∈ Z. Multiplying this equation by
Other documents randomly have
different content
 "How is it," said Rose, "Mr. Ashley is not with you? Does he not
indulge in this gentle sport? or is he too tender-hearted? for it is
monstrously cruel you know!"

"Marmaduke is not calm enough in his temperament for anything so

sedate as fishing; and I doubt whether he would think much of any sporting
less exciting than a tiger hunt, or perhaps a boar hunt. What do you think of
him?"

"I don't think at all of him. In one evening I am not able to form an
opinion of any one; at least," checking herself, "not often. He didn't say
anything remarkably brilliant, did he?"

"Brilliant! No."

"The only part of his conversation I remember is what he related of you

and your side of bacon. I liked his manner of telling that. It was in a tone of
real friendship."

"Yes, Marmaduke has a regard for me. But don't you think him superbly
handsome?"

"I don't like handsome men."

This was said with perfect unaffectedness; but he raised his eyes
quickly, and gave her just such a look as she remembered him to have given
her once before, when they were talking of Leopardi, and it embarrassed
her. Indeed, said to an ugly man, this had an equivocal sound: it was either a
sarcasm or a declaration.

"You are singular, then," was his quiet reply.

"Why singular, in preferring brains to beauty? Are we women really, do

you think, the children we are said to be, and only fit to be amused with
dolls? That is not like your usual respect for our sex!"

"Come, come, you do not state the case fairly. The question is not,
whether you or your sex prefer beauty to brains, but whether you prefer
beauty to ugliness? It is curious to notice how this question is always
confused in this way, by mixing up with it an element that does not properly
belong to it. People say, 'Oh, a clever plain man before a handsome fool!'
and then argue, as if all the plain men were necessarily clever, and all the
handsome men imperatively fools."

"Well, I'm sure, handsome men generally are—not, perhaps, fools—but

certainly not clever; they think of nothing but their beauty. Their beauty—
the frights!"

"I cannot agree with you. Running over the list of great men you will
find the proportion greatly in favour of handsome men; which, when you
come to reflect how few handsome men there are compared to the
thousands of ugly men, is the more striking. The reason I take to be this:
these men, from their very intellectual greatness, must have had great
beauty of expression, so that with features a little better than ordinary they
would rank among the handsome. It may be said, indeed, that very fine
organizations include genius and beauty."

"Oh!" she replied, laughing, "if I once get into an argument with you,
you'll make out anything. But I won't be browbeaten by logic: 'hang up
philosophy!' as Benedict says. I'm as difficult to be reasoned out of my
convictions as if I were a logician myself. I don't like handsome men, I
have said it; nor shall you reason me into liking them."

"Very well, very well. I certainly have no cause to wish it."

"Except the love of victory in argument, eh?"

"The victory must be on my side; it is gained already. If two men equal

in talent and goodness, but greatly unequal in appearance, were placed
before you, the handsomer must excite the preference, and that is all our
cause of battle amounts to."

"Oh, men, men! how you will argue!"

At this moment they were joined by Marmaduke, who was all anxiety
about the private theatricals; not for themselves, but because he saw in them
an excellent excuse for being constantly at the Hall, and in Violet's society.

With his usual impetuosity Marmaduke had already settled that Violet
should be his wife. Love at first sight, which may be a fiction with regard to
the colder children of the north, is no fiction with regard to such passionate
natures as his; and he was in love with Violet, without seeking to disguise it.
Indeed, he spoke in such raptures of her to Rose, that she smiled and looked
significantly at Julius, who returned her glance, and confirmed her
suspicions.

CHAPTER X.

THE GREAT COMMENTATOR.

"Eccovi un de' compositor di libri bene meriti di republica, postillatori, glosatori,
construttori, additatori, scoliatori, traduttori!..,...

... O bella etimologia, e di mio proprio Marte or ora deprompta! Or dunque quindi
prope jam versus movo il gresso, per che voglio notarla majoribus literis nel mio
propriarum elucubrationum libro."—GIORDANO BRUNO. Candelajo.

During this conversation between the lovers, another pair of undeclared

lovers were standing on the steps of the terrace, "talking of lovely things
that conquer death," and yielding themselves up to the luxury of a tête-à-
tête, wherein glances were more eloquent than tongues, and hearts fluttered
like new-caught birds, at the most seemingly insignificant phrase.

These were Cecil and Blanche. I call them undeclared lovers, because
not only were they ignorant of each other's feelings, but ignorant also of
their own. Blanche's love had been of gradual growth. The lively,
handsome, accomplished Cecil had early made a deep impression on her,
though her shy, retiring disposition gave no signs of it; and his attentions on
the evening before had been so delightful that she was still under their
influence.

That in relinquishing Violet, he should turn to her complete opposite,

Blanche, is nothing but what one may have anticipated. Her charms were
brought into stronger relief by the contrast; and it has always been remarked
that the heart is never so susceptible to a new impression as when it has
been in any way robbed of an old affection. Partly, no doubt, because the
feelings are best attuned to love when in that state of unsatisfied
excitement; for,—

Say that upon the altar of her beauty

You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart,

still, the sacrifice is so sweet, that it is with difficulty we forego it; and if the
object change, the feeling still remains. Partly, also, because the amour
propre, outraged by a defeat, is glad to be flattered by the chance of a new
success.

There they stood, enchanting and enchanted, when Meredith Vyner put
his head out of the glass door of the drawing-room which opened on to the
terrace, and said, "Mr. Chamberlayne, you are not doing anything particular,
are you?"

"Not at all, sir."

"Then, if you have nothing better to amuse you, just step with me into
my study; I have a new discovery to communicate, which will, I think,
delight you."

Nothing better to amuse him! to leave Blanche for some twaddle about
Horace! was it not provoking? But he was forced to go, there was no
escaping, If anything could have compensated him, it would have been the
expression of impatience on Blanche's face, and the look with which she
seemed to say, "Don't stay too long."
 When they were in the study, Meredith Vyner placed his snuff-box on
the table, and, resting his left foot on the fender, began stroking his
protuberant calf in a very deliberate manner. This was a certain sign of his
being at that moment struggling with some conception, which demanded
the greatest clearness and composure, adequately to bring forth. His mind
was tottering under the weight of an unusual burden. As the left hand
slowly descended the inner part of his leg, from the knee to the ankle, and
as slowly ascended again the same distance, Cecil saw that he was
arranging in his head something of more consequence than a verbal
criticism. "The discovery I am about to impart," he said at last, with a slight
pomposity, "is not perfectly elaborated in my mind, since the first gleam of
it only came to me last night. It kept me sleepless. I have meditated
profoundly on it since, and I am now in a condition to communicate it to
you."

In spite of the solemnity of this introduction, Cecil, whose thoughts

were on the terrace, found great difficulty in assuming a proper air of
attentive interest. Vyner did not remark it, but continued:—

"The discovery is so simple when once mentioned—like all truly great

discoveries—that one asks oneself, is it possible that hitherto it should have
been overseen? It goes, however, to nothing less than the entire revolution
of the Horatian Sapphic. Look here: you must often, I am sure, have been
disagreeably affected by the absurdity of

Labitur ripa, Jove non probante,

uxorius amnis.

"This sort of caprice is very funny in Canning's

U.
-niversity of Güttingen;

but only tolerable in comic verse: in a serious ode it is detestable, and I

cannot believe so careful and fastidious a poet (who was no innovator,
recollect! none of your école romantique!) guilty of it..."
 "You propose a new reading?" suggested Cecil, feeling called upon to
make some remark.

"New reading! no: that is the paltry trick of a commentator, who

endeavours to escape a difficulty by denying its existence. No, no; my
edition will have none of these trivialities. Everything I print shall have a
solid substance. I intend my edition to last. To the point, however; the
difficulty vanishes at once if we suppose, as is most natural to believe, that
Horace's Sapphics, were not composed of four lines but of three—the fourth
line being really nothing but the Adonic termination to the third—like the
tail to an Italian sonnet—or better still, like the lengthening of the
concluding line in the Spenserian stanza: which has a magnificent swing
and sweep in its amplitude, as if gathering up into its mighty arms the rich
redundancy of poetic inspiration. Thus instead of

Iliæ dum se nimium querenti

Jactat ultorem, vagus et sinistra
Labitur ripa, Jove non probante, u-orius amnis.

The verses read thus:—

Iliæ dum se nimium querenti

Jactat ultorem, vagus et sinistra
Labitur ripa, Jove non probante, uxorius amnis.

And so throughout. Does not the sweep of this last line carry a fine
harmony with it? Is it not incomparably superior to the mean, niggling,
clipping versification as we usually receive it? There cannot be a question
about it. And if you come to reflect, you will see how the error has crept in
by the copyists being cramped for room, and writing the Adonic addition
below, as if it were a new line. But it is no more a new line, than the
additional syllables in Spenser are new lines; nevertheless, we often see
printers forced to break a line into two. Here is an example," taking up a
volume, "which occurs in Tennyson, whom I opened this morning." And he
read aloud:—

"They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be
 Queen o' the May."

"There," throwing the book down, "now suppose a few centuries hence
all our literature to have perished, except half a dozen poets, some noodle of
a commentator will imagine that 'Queen o' the May' is a separate verse, and
will write learned twaddle on the versification of the English!"

An ample pinch closed this triumphant peroration; and Vyner holding

his head slightly downwards to bring his nose in contact with his finger and
thumb, looked up over that finger and thumb at Cecil, who had for some
minutes ceased to hear what he was saying, having caught a glimpse of
Blanche walking on the lawn with Captain Heath. Cecil disliked the
Captain; and now a vague sentiment of jealousy hovered about his mind.
No wonder, then, if he paid little heed to his host, and his host's
observations on an idle point of philology. Of late he had become horribly
bored by these consultations, and had often wished Horace and his amateur
editor buried irrecoverably beneath the dust of Herculaneum; but never was
his inattention so ill-timed as on that occasion!

"What are you looking at?" inquired Vyner, in a tone which his
politeness could not completely subdue.

"Looking at? Nothing," said Cecil embarrassed. "I was reflecting——."

"Oh! on my discovery?"

"Yes. It occurs to me that I have met with it before somewhere."

Cecil said this by way of cutting short the discussion, perfectly aware
that Vyner was too much of a commentator to care one straw about an
opinion, unless he were the originator.

"Impossible! Im-poss-ible!" ejaculated Vyner, much in the strain that

Dominie Sampson may have ejaculated 'prodigious!'
 "It's very ingenious," said Cecil, who did not know a word about it,
"very; and true."

"Yes, yes, but you think it is not original? Its originality is everything
with me."

"Perhaps as some compromise between your theory and the ordinary

one, you might say that the orius amnis and the Adonic termination
generally is only a termination, not a new verse."

"Compromise!" exclaimed the astonished Vyner, "why that is my

theory!"

Cecil was posed. Convicted of such palpable inattention as to have

suggested as an improvement the very idea which had just been explained
to him, he could but stutter out some incoherent phrases of excuse.

Vyner was doubly hurt. The inattention was one offence, but that was
nothing to the careless way in which Cecil had proposed as an indifferent
modification the grand discovery he, Vyner, had made, which was to
immortalize him. With an air of quiet dignity, which Cecil had never seen
before, the offended philologist assuring him he was not ripe yet for such
subjects, which could scarcely be a matter of surprise at his age, he bowed
him out.

CHAPTER XI.

CECIL AGAIN WRITES TO FRANK.

Although you have not answered my letters, Frank, I must write to you
once more, if only to gratify that besoin d'epanchement which all lovers
feel. Were I a century or two older, I might carve my Blanche's name on
every tree, comme cela se pratiquait autrefois; but being a frock-coated-
nineteenth-century prosaic creature, I am condemned to write on
unsentimental Bath post, that which should be confided only to the trees.

You will doubtless raise those wondering eyebrows at the sight of the
name Blanche. It is not an erratum for Violet, I assure you; I have given up
all thoughts of that high-spirited, imperial, but imperious creature. I looked
into my heart and found I loved her not. She is evidently hurt at my
inconstancy; but, on nearer acquaintance, I found Blanche so infinitely
preferable, that I could not help making the comparison. Fortunately I had
not gone too far to recede, and the haughty girl will, I dare say, soon be
consoled.

I have not given you a description of Blanche. Shakspeare has

anticipated it in these lines—

If lusty Love should go in quest of beauty,

Where should he find it but in Lady Blanche?

She is very fair, with a skin of dazzling loveliness, long dreamy eyes,
always moist with emotion, an exquisite smile, a low soft voice—"an
excellent thing in woman"—and a wondrous head of hair, which has that
bright golden hue which Italians prize so highly—indeed, Firenzuola says,
"che de' capelli il proprio e vero colore è esser biondi."

We have all but declared our passion. It has been declared by our eyes,
but as yet I have had no favourable opportunity of doing it in form. That she
loves me, I am certain; still more certain that I love her. She is the only
woman I ever met who would make me happy, and I feel that she will
change me into a quiet, domestic being. High time too, seeing that I have
squandered my patrimony. However, what with my four thousand pounds,
and the handsome dowry Vyner will assuredly give his daughter, we shall
be able to live modestly till I can get diplomatic employment. Once his son-
in-law, Vyner will be forced to exert his interest in my behalf.

By the way, it is fortunate I have already captured Blanche's affections,

for I have certainly lost all Vyner's favour, at least for the present. He was
giving me a tedious account of some twaddling notion he had excogitated
about Horace's versification, to which I paid all the less attention, as my
eyes were then following Blanche, who was engaged in a deep conversation
with Captain Heath. Unfortunately I betrayed my inattention, and he has not
forgotten it. He is now distant and almost cold in his manner, and never
mentions Horace. I must regain his confidence by some splendid
emendation. If not, I must trust to Blanche to purchase my forgiveness.

The house is lightened of Mrs. Broughton and her niece, and young
Lufton. I regret the last named; he has been useful to me, in losing seventy
pounds to me after winning two ponies at billiards.

Yours ever,
CECIL.

CHAPTER XII.

CECIL PUT TO THE TEST.

"You think me unjust to Mr. Chamberlayne," said Captain Heath one

morning to Blanche, as they sat together in the drawing-room discussing the
character of her lover, "because you are so young and know so little of the
world, that you trust appearances, and cannot pierce beneath them."

"But I cannot be mistaken in supposing him very good hearted, and

wonderfully clever."

"He is good tempered, not good hearted; cleverish, but not clever. It is
natural that you should mistake the characteristics of good temper for those
of a good heart—most people do so."

"And is not a good temper a sign of a good heart?"

 "No, my dear Blanche, not in the least; it is very often only the sign of a
weak and indolent organization—sometimes of mere cold selfishness. You
look indignant. I do not say it is a sign in him of selfishness, I only say it is
no sign of goodness."

"But what makes you so illiberal towards him?"

"Illiberal! I am merely and strictly just. I do not like him, because he is

weak and insincere."

"Insincere!"

"Yes; he toadies your father by pretending to care about Horace and

your father's commentary, which he laughs at behind his back."

"It is your dislike," said Blanche, rising and colouring, "which distorts
your usual candid judgment. You do not like him, and you misinterpret
everything. I won't have him abused. I like him very much—very much,
and I can't sit and hear you talk so of him." She left the room.

Captain Heath did not stir. He had never seen such an exhibition of
temper on the part of Blanche before. She was greatly moved, it was
evident. And there could be but one cause for her agitation—that cause
made the captain thoughtful.

The truth is, he loved Blanche, and now seemed for the first time to see
that she loved Cecil. He had vaguely suspected it before. This was a
confirmation. His lip quivered as he said, "She is perhaps right. My dislike
may be groundless. I will try him."

Cecil shortly afterwards sauntered in.

"Are you for a game at billiards," said the captain.

Cecil stared at such an invitation from one whom he had never seen in
the billiard-room since his arrival, but accepted, with some curiosity as to
how the "solemn prig" would play.

The dislike was mutual; and mutually did they libel each other.
 "By George! you play a first-rate game," said Cecil, amazed at the skill
of his antagonist, whom he expected to find an indifferent hand.

"Yes, I play well," quietly answered the captain. "I used to play a great
deal when with my regiment. But you are stronger at it than I am."

Cecil thought so, but would not acknowledge it. Nevertheless, the
captain won three games in succession, which considerably irritated his
antagonist, who began to swear at the chalk, to abuse the table, to change
his cues frequently, and to throw the blame of his non-success upon
anything and everything except his want of skill.

The captain, who was critically observing him throughout the game to
see if his opinion was well or ill founded, smiled scornfully at all these
ebullitions. He had judged rightly in assuming that the best moment for
observing a man's real character is during a game of chance and skill
combined. Then it is that a man unbends, and shows himself as he really is.
The self-love is implicated; and, as both vanity and money are at stake, you
see a mind acting under the impulsion of two of its most powerful
stimulants. Cecil, who was both vain and weak, was betrayed into a
hundred little expressions of his character; and, as he was also somewhat
less than delicate—without being at all dishonourable—in money matters,
he led the captain to think ill of him on that score.

Having made up his mind as to Cecil's real worth, he determined to put

him to the trial on a matter in which he was himself directly interested.

"Have you ever played with Violet?" he asked. "She is a wonderful

hand. But then she does everything well. (I doubt whether I can make this
cannon—yes, there it is.) What a splendid creature she is! Isn't she?"

"Splendid, indeed! They are all three lovely girls, though in such
different styles."

"(How stands the game? Seven, love: good.) What a sad thing it is,
though, to think such girls should be absolutely without fortune. (Good
stroke!)"
 Cecil was chalking his cue when this bomb fell at his feet; he suspended
that operation, and said,—

"What do you mean by their having no fortune?"

"Why, the estate is entailed, and Vyner, who is already greatly in debt,
will neither have saved any money to leave them when he dies, nor be able
to give them anything but their trousseaux when they marry."

"The devil!"

"(That's a teasing stroke: one of the worst losing hazards. You must take
care.)"

This last remark, though applied to the game, was too applicable to
Cecil's own condition for him not to wince. The captain's eye was upon
him.

"What a d—d shame!" exclaimed Cecil, "for a man with an entailed

estate to make no provision for his children. It's positively monstrous!"

"Horrible, indeed!"

"Why, what is to become of them at his death?"

"They will be penniless," gravely replied the captain, as he sent the red
ball whizzing into the pocket.

"I wonder he is not ashamed to look them in the face," said Cecil, duly
impressed with the enormity.

"He trusts, I suppose, to their marrying rich men," carelessly added the
captain. "(Game! I win everything!)"

Cecil declined to play any longer. He went up into his own room, and
locked himself in, there to review his situation, the aspect of which the
recent intelligence had wonderfully altered.
 Captain Heath shrugged his shoulders, quietly lighted a cigar, and
strolled out, well satisfied with the result of his experiment.

Then he met Blanche, who came up to him, holding out her hand, and
asking forgiveness.

"I was very naughty," she said, "but you have spoiled me so, that you
must not be astonished if I do not behave myself to you as to my best
friend. But the truth is, I was angry with you, and now I am angry with
myself, Am I forgiven?'

He only pressed her hand, and looked the answer. She put her arm
within his, and walked with him to the river, where they got into the boat,
and he rowed her gently down. She prattled to him in her prettiest style all
the way, for she was quite happy at having "made it up with her darling
Captain Heath."

It should be observed that, although he was no more than five and thirty,
yet, to the girls, he was always an elderly man, they having known him
from childhood. They were extremely fond of him, as he was of them; but
they laughed outright at one of their companions, asking Rose if there was
anything like flirtation between them.

"Flirtation!" exclaimed Rose. "Why, he is bald!"

The hair, indeed, was somewhat worn away above the forehead; but this
was from the friction of his hussar cap, not from age.

"No, no, my dear," continued Rose, "I make no havoc with the highly-
respectable-but-eminently-unfitted-for-flirtation race of papas and
grandpapas. My Cupid is in no need of a toupet; and if I am to be shot, it
shall not be with a gouty arrow. Captain Heath is handsome—or has been—
and though his moustachios are as dark and silky as a guardsman's need be,
yet he has one leetle defect—his age makes him respectable!"

In consequence of this notion, they neither thought of falling in love

with him themselves, nor of the probability of his falling in love with them.
They were, therefore, as unrestrained with him as with a brother or an
uncle. Blanche was his especial favourite and constant companion. He
knew well that she regarded him as too old to be loved, but trusted that her
eyes would be opened to the fact, that there was really no great disparity
between them.

"I have been playing billiards with Mr. Chamberlayne this morning,"
said the captain, as he rested on his oars, and allowed the stream to float
them quietly down.

"You have? Then I hope your opinion is changed."

"So far from it, I prophesy that his attentions to you—which have been
marked of late—will visibly decrease, until they relapse into mere
insignificance. And all because I casually remarked that your father's estate,
being entailed, and he being in debt, you and your sisters were portionless."

"And you suppose him capable of—oh! this is too bad. It is

ungenerous."

"My dear Blanche, I may be wrong, but I fear I am not; let me not,
however, be condemned, till the event condemns me. Watch him!"

"You shall own you have calumniated him; the event shall prove it," she
said with great warmth.

A dark shade passed across his brow, and he rowed rapidly on. Not
another word passed between them.

CHAPTER XIII.

HOW A LOVER VACILLATES.

 Cecil's reflections had not been cheering. Although he felt himself too
much in love with Blanche to give her up because she was portionless, he
was, at the same time, too well aware of his own slender resources to think
of marrying upon them. Bred to luxurious habits, he was not one by whom
poverty could be lightly treated.

The more he reflected, the more urgent it appeared to him that he should
conquer his passion, and save himself from perdition. Could Captain Heath
have read what was passing in his rival's mind, he would have smiled
grimly at this verification of his suspicions, and rejoiced in the success of
an experiment which removed that rival from his path.

As Cecil descended into the drawing-room that day before dinner, he

was struck painfully by the sight of Violet on the sofa in exactly the same
attitude—caressing Shot—as she had appeared to him on that afternoon
when he had relinquished all idea of her. The coincidence affected him.

"There is a fate against my marrying into this family," he said to

himself: "first one, and then the other."

Blanche was standing at the window, looking out. She turned her head
towards him as he entered, and felt a little mortified to see him throw
himself into a chair by the side of Rose, with whom he began a lively chat.

Captain Heath, who had watched this manœuvre, now looked at

Blanche; but she, conscious of his gaze, avoided it, and again resumed her
contemplation of the undulating lawn and woody distance.

Dinner was announced. Meredith Vyner, as usual, took Mrs. Langley

Turner; Sir Harry Johnstone, Mrs. Vyner; and Tom Wincot, Violet. Cecil, to
Rose's surprise, offered her his arm, which was natural enough, inasmuch as
he had been talking to her up to that time; but still, as for many days he had
invariably managed to take Blanche, she could not help remarking the
circumstance.

Captain Heath walked up to Blanche, who remained at the window; her

heart throbbing violently, her mind distracted with contradictory thoughts.
 "Blanche," he said, tenderly, "we are the last."

"I shall not dine to-day," she said, angrily, hurt at the pity of his tone.

"My dear Blanche, do not betray yourself; do not give him reason to
suppose his neglect can affect you."

She sighed, put her arm within his, and walked silently with him into
the dining-room.

She sat opposite Cecil, who seemed more talkative than usual. No one
remarked her silence—she seldom spoke at dinner, except to her neighbour.
No one asked her if she were ill, though she sent away her plate each time
untouched. Cecil and Captain Heath observed it; both with pain.

Keen were the pangs she suffered at this fulfilment of the captain's cruel
prophecy, and bitterly did she at that moment hate him for having
undeceived her. That Cecil avoided her was but too evident. That his
neglect could have but the one motive Captain Heath had ascribed was
never doubted; but she threw all the blame on the captain's officiousness in
speaking about their want of fortune, and in fact, with all the
unreasonableness of suffering, hated him as the proximate cause of her
pain.

Captain Heath applauded his own sagacity as a reader of character, and

rejoiced as a lover in the success of his calculation. But he rejoiced too
soon. Like most men he had erred in his calculation, because he dealt with
human nature as if it were simple, instead of being, as it really is, strangely
complex; and as if one motive was not counteracted by another. This is the
grand source of the errors committed by cunning people: they are said to be
"too cunning" when they overreach themselves by what seems an artful and
logically-reasoned calculation; but the truth is, they have not been cunning
enough. They have planned their plans as if the mind of man were to be
treated like a mathematical problem, not as a bundle of motives, of
prejudices, and of passions. The plan may look admirable on paper; but then
it is constructed on the assumption that the victim must needs be impelled
by certain motives; whereas, when it comes into execution, we find that
some other motives are brought into play, the existence of which was not
allowed for in the calculation; and these entirely subvert the plan.

Captain Heath's plan erred in precisely this way. Judging Cecil's

character in the main aright, he justly argued that such a man would shun
poverty as a pestilence, because he was weak, and money is power; and that
he would shrink from affronting the world with no other aid than his own
right hand. He therefore concluded that an intimation of Vyner's affairs
would be an effectual method of putting an end to Cecil's attentions.

Now this argument would have no flaw in it, if we assume that a man is
led solely by prudential considerations: it would be perfect, were men
swayed solely by their reason.

Cecil's views were precisely such as Captain Heath had suspected. But
then Cecil had emotions, passions, senses—and these the captain had left
out of the calculation. Yet these, which are the stronger powers in every
breast, were to overthrow the captain's plan.

Cecil in his own room, surveying his situation, was a very different man
from Cecil in the presence of his beloved, pained at the aspect of her pain,
and conscience-stricken as he gazed upon her lovely, sorrowing face. His
heart smote him for his selfishness, and he was asking himself whether he
could give her up—whether poverty with her were not preferable to
splendour with another, when he thought he saw something in the captain's
look which betokened scornful triumph.

"Can he have deceived me? Does he wish to get me out of the way?" he
said to himself. "Egad! I think so. The game at billiards this morning—that
was mysterious. What could induce him to propose such a thing to me—he
who never took the slightest notice of me before? He had some motive. And
then his story about Vyner's affairs—fudge! I won't believe it, until I have it
on better authority."

The ladies rose from the table.

"I sha'n't sit long over the wine," Cecil whispered to Blanche, as she
passed him.
 A sudden gleam irradiated her sweet face, as she raised it towards him
with a smile of exquisite joy and gratitude. That one word had rolled the
heavy stone which was lying on her heart, and gave the lie to all the "base
insinuations of that odious Captain Heath."

'Twas thus she spoke of one she really loved, and who loved her more
than anything on earth!

The men drew their chairs closer together, and commenced that
onslaught on the dessert which is characteristic of such moments.

"Have you never remarked," said Cecil, "that men refuse to touch fruit
until the women retire, and then attack it as if their appetites had been
sharpened by restraint?"

"It is, I pwesume, upon the pwinciple of compensation," said Tom

Wincot. "Depwived of the fwuit of humanity, the gwapes, apwicots, and
nectawines of life, we are thwown upon the fwuit of nature! I say, Cecil,
isn't that vewy poetically expwessed?"

"Very. But I don't think much of the compensation myself. I should like
the women to remain with us as they do abroad."

"That," said Meredith Vyner, "would spoil dinners. The pleasantest part
is the conversation after the ladies have retired."

"Besides," objected Tom Wincot, "however pleasant the society of

women, one can't be always with them. Toujours perdwix!"

"Toujours de la perdrix," interposed Vyner, glad of an opportunity of

setting any one right. "If you must quote French, quote it at least correctly."

"Isn't toujours perdwix cowect, Mr. Mewedith Vyner. I never heard it

expwessed otherwise."

"No, sir, it is grossly incorrect. The phrase is attributed to Louis XV.

who excused his conjugal inconstancy by saying, that although partridges
might be a dainty dish, 'Mangez toujours de la perdrix, et vous en serez bien
vite rassasié,' was his witty but immoral remark. The claret is with you, Mr.
Wincot."

"By the way," said Cecil, who was anxious to regain Vyner's goodwill,
by flattering his vanity, "I have a theory which I must call upon your stores
of learning, Mr. Vyner, to assist me in developing." Vyner bowed, and with
his forefinger and thumb prepared a pinch of snuff, while Cecil continued
—"It was suggested to me by Talleyrand's witticism that language was
given to man to conceal his thoughts."

"Talleyrand," said Vyner gravely, "is not the author of that joke; though
it is commonly attributed to him. The author is a man now* living in Paris,
M. Harel, some of whose bon mots are the best I ever heard. I remember his
describing to me M. Buloz, the proprietor of The Revue des Deux Mondes
and The Revue de Paris, as a man who was 'l'âme de deux revues, avec
l'attention habile de n'en être jamais l'esprit.'"

* 1840. He died in 1846.

"L'attention habile," exclaimed Cecil, laughing loudly, "is exquisite. To

my theory, however."

"No, no; none of your theowies," said Wincot, "they are always
pwepostewously exaggewated."

"You shall judge," replied Cecil, "in saying language was given to us to
conceal our thoughts, M. Harel explained the construction of a great many
words in all tongues. Thus demonstration is evidently derived from demon,
the father of lies."

"That is vewy faw fetched. Pass the clawet."

"Then, again, Mr. Vyner will tell you," pursued Cecil, "that the Greek
verb to govern is ανασσω, which is derived from ανασσα, a queen, not from
αναξ, a king. Now, you will admit, that to deduce the governing principle
from the weaker sex is only a bit of irony. The mildest possible symbol is
used for the severest possible office, viz., government. The soft delicious
sway of woman who leads humanity by the nose is not to be disputed.
Bearded warriors, steel-clad priests, ambitious nobles, a ragged, mighty,
and mysterious plebs, these no single arm could possibly subdue. And yet a
king is necessary. Here the grand problem presents itself: how to force the
governed to accept a governor?"

"Oh! pass the clawet!"

"The king," said Vyner, shutting his box, "is the strongest. König,
Könning, or canning: he is the one who can rule."

"But," replied Cecil, "I maintain he can't rule: no man was ever strong
enough to rule men. The true solution of the problem is, that the first king
was a woman."

"This is fuwiously widiculous!"

"Laugh! laugh! I am prepared to maintain that woman is weak, and

omnipotent because of her weakness. She is girt with the proof armour of
defencelessness. A man you knock down, but who dares raise a hand
against a woman?"

"Very true," suggested Vyner, "very true. What says Anacreon, whom
Plato calls 'the wise?' Nature, he says, gave horns to bulls, and a 'chasm of
teeth to lions;' but when she came to furnish woman with weapons,

τι ουν δίδωσι; κάλλοϛ

Beauty, beauty was the tremendous arm which was to surpass all
others."

"And formidably she uses it," continued Cecil. "To man's violence she
opposes her 'defencelessness'—and nails; to his strength she opposes her
'weakness'—and tongue."
 "In support of your theory," said Vyner, "the French call a queen a reine;
and we say the king reigns."

He chuckled prodigiously at this pun, which Cecil pronounced

admirable.

"My theory of kingship is this," said Cecil. "The first king, as I said,
was a woman. She ruled unruly men. She took to herself some male subject,
helplessly strong; some 'brute of a man,' docile as a lamb; him she made her
husband. Her people she ruled with smiles and promises, touchingly
alluding, on all befitting occasions, to her helpless state. Her husband she
ruled with scratches——"

"And hysterics," feelingly suggested Vyner.

"Well, a son was born—many sons if you like; but one was her especial
darling. Growing old and infirm, she declared her son should wield the
sceptre of the state in her name. Councillors demurred; she cajoled; they
consented. Her son became regent. At her death he continued to govern—
not in his name, but in hers. The king was symbol of the woman, and
reigned vicariously. When we say the king reigns, we mean the king queens
it."

"Bravo!" exclaimed Vyner, chuckling in anticipation of the joke; "and

this is the explanation of Thiers's celebrated aphorism, 'le roi REGNE et ne
gouverne pas.'"

"This explains also the Salic law; a curious example of the tendency of
language to conceal the thoughts. A decree is enacted that no woman shall
reign. That is to say, men preferred the symbol (man) to the reality
(woman). They dreaded the divine right of mistresses—the autocratic
absolutism of petticoats."

"And pray, Mr. Chamberlayne," asked Vyner, "how do you explain the
derivation of the French verb tuer, to kill, from the Latin tucor, to
preserve?"
 "Nothing easier upon my theory of the irony of language. What is death
but preservation?"

"Bwavo! pwoceed. Pwove that."

"Is it not preservation from sickness and from sorrow, from debts,
diseases, dull parties, and bores? Death preserves us, by rescuing our
frames from mortality, and wafting our souls into the bosom of immortal
life. Then look at the irony of our use of the word preserves, i.e., places
where game is kept for indiscriminate slaughter; or else, pots of luxurious
sweets, destined to bring children to an untimely end."

"Why," said Vyner, "do we call a sycophant a toady?"

"I really don't know."

"Because his sycophancy has its source in το δέος, fear," replied Vyner,
delighted at the joke.

"Good!" said Cecil, laughing. "I accept the derivation: the irony is
perfect, as a toad is the very last creature to accuse of sycophancy; he spits
upon the world in an unbiassed and exasperating impartiality: hence the
name. One of the things which has most struck me," he continued, "is the
occasional urbanity of language—instance the word question for torture."

"Like Astyages in Herodotus," said Vyner, "politely counselling the

herdsman not to desire to proceed to necessities, εϛ ταϛ ανάγκαϛ, which the
man perfectly understands to mean torture. Consider, also, the changes
which take place in words. 'Virtue' originally meant manliness. The Greek
word αρετη is obviously derived from Ares (Mars), and meant martialness;
it has now degenerated into virtù, a taste for cameos and pictures; and into
virtue, woman's fairest quality, but the farthest removed from martial
excellence."

"This is all vewy ingenious, pewhaps," said Tom Wincot; "but let us go
to the ladies, and hear their theowies."
 They rose from table. Vyner in evidently better disposition towards
Cecil than he had been since the last Horatian discussion; Maxwell dull and
stupid as ever; Captain Heath silent and reflective.

CHAPTER XIV.

JEALOUSY.
O, my lord, beware of jealousy.
It is a green-eyed monster that doth mock
The food it eats on.
Othello.

A bright smile from Blanche welcomed Cecil, as he passed from the

dining-room to the drawing-room, and walked up to the piano at which she
was sitting. He thought he had never seen her look so lovely; perhaps the
remembrance of his having contemplated giving her up made him more
sensible of her charms.

He took up her portfolio of loose music, and began turning over the
sheets, as if seeking some particular song. She came to help him, and as she
bent over the portfolio he whispered gently,—

"Can you contrive to slip away unobserved, and meet me in the

shrubbery? I have something of the deepest importance to communicate."

She trembled, but it was with delight, as she whispered, "Yes."

"Plead fatigue, and retire after tea."

 He then moved away, and approaching Violet asked her if she
remembered the name of a certain Neapolitan canzonette, which her sister
Blanche had sung the other night; and on receiving a negative sat down by
her side, and entered into conversation with her.

All the rest of the evening he sat by Violet, only occasionally addressing
indifferent questions to Blanche. Captain Heath seeing this, and noticing a
strange agitation in Blanche's manner, which she in vain endeavoured to
disguise, interpreted it according to his wishes, and sat down to a rubber at
whist with great internal satisfaction.

"I have been thinking, Mr. Chamberlayne," said Meredith Vyner,

shuffling the cards, "that even differences of pronunciation may assist your
theory. Thus we English—a modest race—express our doubt by scepticism,
deriving it from σκέψιϛ, deliberation. But the Scotch—a hard dogmatic race
—pronounce it skeepticism, hereby deriving it from σκηψιϛ, intimating that
a man leans upon his own opinion, and that his dissent from others is not a
deliberation, but a walking-stick, wherewith he trudges onwards to the
truth."

"Mr. Chamberlayne," said Mrs. Meredith Vyner, "are we not to have

some music from you this evening? Come, one of your charming Spanish
songs."

"By the way," said Vyner, while Cecil tuned his guitar, "talking of
Spanish songs reminds me of a passage I met in a Spanish play this
morning, in which the author says,

Sin zelos amor

Es estar sin alma el cuerpo.

What say you to that, ladies? It means that love without jealousy is a body
without soul. Immane quantum discrepat!"

"Love has nothing whatever to do with jealousy," said Violet; "and so

far from jealousy being the soul of love, I should say it was only the
contemptible part of our nature that feels jealousy, and only the highest part
of our nature that feels love."
 "No one will agree with you, my dear Violet," said Mrs. Langley Turner.
"Sir Harry, it is your deal."

"Perhaps not," said Violet.

"I should vewy much like to hear Miss Violet's pwoof of her wemark. I
have always wead that jealousy is insepewable fwom love; though, I
confess, I never expewienced jealousy myself."

"Nor love either—eh?" said Rose.

"That is sevewe, Miss Wose! Do you pwetend that I never felt that
sensation which evewy man has felt?"

"If you mean love," replied Rose, "I say, that if you have felt it, I
imagine it has only been just the beginning."

"Twue, twue!"

"And like the charity of other people, your love has begun at home!"

"Miss Wose, Miss Wose!" said Tom Wincot, shaking his finger at the
laughing girl.

"So that, if you have ever been jealous," she continued, "you must have
an exaggerated susceptibility."

"And why an exaggewated susceptibility?"

"Because jealous of a person no other earthly being would think of

disputing with you—your own!"

This sally produced a hearty laugh, and Tom Wincot, turning to Violet,
said,—

"I'm afwaid of your sister Wose's wepawtees, so shall not pwolong the
discussion; but pway explain your pwevious weflection on jealousy."
 "I mean," said Violet, "that jealousy has its source in egotism; love, on
the contrary, has its source in sympathy: hence it is that the manifestations
of the one are always contemptible, of the other always noble and
beautiful."

"And I," said Maxwell, his dark face lighting up with a savage
expression, "think that jealousy is the most natural instinctive feeling we
possess. The man or woman who is not jealous, does not know what it is to
love."

"That is a mere assertion, Mr. Maxwell: can you prove it?'

"Prove it! easily. What is jealousy but a fear of losing what we hold
most dearly? Look at a dog over a bone; if you approach him he will growl,
though you may have no intention of taking away his bone: your presence is
enough to excite his fear and anger. If you attempt to snatch it, though in
play, then he will bite."

"You are speaking of dogs," said Violet, haughtily, "I spoke of men."

"The feeling is the same in both," retorted Maxwell.

"Yes, when men resemble dogs.—I spoke of men who possessed the
higher qualities."

"Curiously enough," observed Vyner, "the Spaniards, whose jealousy is

proverbial, and whose great poet, Calderon, has expressed himself in the
almost diabolical manner just mentioned, these Spaniards have no word
which properly means jealousy. Zelos is only the plural of zelo—zeal."

"I do not think, papa, you are quite correct," said Violet, "when you say
the Spaniards are more jealous than other nations."

"They have the character, my dear."

"I am quite aware of it. But what one nation says of another is seldom
accurate. If I understand jealousy, it is the sort of passion which would be
felt quite as readily by northerns as by southerns, though it would not be
expressed in so vehement a manner; but because one man uses a knife,
when another man uses a court of law, that does not make a difference in
the sentiments."

"I agree with Violet," said Captain Heath, "it seems to me that jealousy
is a mean and debasing passion, whatever may be the cause which excites
it. To suspect the woman whom you love and who loves you, is so
degrading both to her and to you, that a man who suspects, without
overwhelming evidence, must be strangely deficient in nobility of soul; and
suppose the evidence complete—suppose that she loves another, even then
a noble soul arms itself with fortitude, and instead of wailing like a
querulous child, accepts with courage the fate which no peevishness can
avert. The love that is gone cannot be recalled by jealousy. A man should
say with Othello,—

I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;

And on the doubt there is no more but this—
Away at once with love and jealousy."

He looked for Blanche as he concluded this speech, but she had already
retired to her room.

Cecil sang, but soon left off; and pleading "heartburn," caught at the
advice of Tom Wincot, who assured him that a stwong cigar was the best
wemedy for it, and strolled out into the grounds to smoke.

CHAPTER XV.

THE LOVERS MEET.

 And in my heart, fair angel, chaste and wise,
I love you: start not, speak not, answer not.
I love you......
HEYWOOD.—A Woman killed with Kindness.

It was a lovely night. The full harvest moon shed a soft brilliance over
the far-stretching meadow-lands; the sky was dotted with small patches of
light fleecy cloud, and a few dim stars. All was hushed in that repose which
lends a solemn grandeur to a night-scene, when the sky, the stars, the
silence—things suggestive of infinity—become the objects of
contemplation.

Cecil was not one to remain indifferent to such a scene: his painter's eye
and poet's heart were equally open to its mild splendour. The tall trees
standing dark against the sky, and the dim outline of the woody heights
around, no more escaped his notice, than the picturesquely grouped cattle,
one of which, a dun cow, with large white face and chest, stood motionless
amidst her recumbent companions.

Although he could not resist the first burst of admiration, Cecil was in
no mood to luxuriate in the poetry of such a scene, as he would have done
at any other time; but, striking into the thick and shadowy shrubbery,
delicately chequered with interspaces of moonlight, he began to consider
the object of this nocturnal ramble.

It would be difficult to explain the motive which impelled him to make

this assignation. It was one of the sudden inspirations of passion, which
defeat whole months of calculated prudence. Nothing could have been more
opposed to his calculations than anything like an express declaration, until
he had ascertained the truth of what Captain Heath had asserted. And
although he rose from the table with the resolution to be on his guard, and
to watch closely the state of affairs, his first act, as we have seen, was one
of consummate imprudence—one which inextricably entangled him in the
very net from which he was anxious to keep away. Now, upon Captain
Heath's view of his character, this was little less than madness—in short, it
was unintelligible. But it is intelligible enough upon a more comprehensive
view of human character; as every one will acknowledge who has ever
stood beside the girl he loves, in a room full of people—the very restraint of
the place sharpens desire, and makes the timid bold. Hence one reason why
so many more declarations are made in ball-rooms, and at parties, than in
tête-à-têtes.

Certain it is that Cecil, standing beside Blanche looking over the same
portfolio, their hands occasionally touching, their eyes occasionally
meeting, was in no condition to listen to the dictates of reason. A tumult of
desire beat at his heart. He was standing within that atmosphere (if I may
use the word) which surrounds the beloved, and which, as by a magnetic
power, inconceivably stirs the voluptuousness latent in every soul. He was
within the halo which encircled her, and was dazzled by its lustre.
Irresistibly urged by his passion to call this lovely creature his own, he
could not forego bringing things to a crisis; and he made the assignation.
Her consent enchanted him. He was in a fever of impatience for her to
retire. He cursed the lagging time for its slowness; and, with a thrill of
delight, found himself in the open air, about to hear from Blanche's own lips
that which her eyes had so frequently expressed.

In a few minutes, all this impatience and delight subsided. He had

gained his point. Blanche had consented to meet him; and he had contrived
to come to the rendezvous without awakening any suspicion. Now, for the
first time, he began to consider seriously the object of that meeting. He was
calm now; and grew calmer the more he pondered.

"What an ass I have been!" he thought. "What the devil could induce me
to forget myself so far? She will come, expecting to hear me declare myself.
But I can't marry her. I can't offer her beggary as a return for her love. If
Heath should have told the truth. D—n it, he can't be such an unfeeling
egotist as not to make some provision for his children! No, no; I'll not
believe that. A few thousands he must in common decency have set aside,
or he would never be able to look honest men in the face. Besides, Vyner
doesn't appear to be particularly selfish. However, it may be true; and if so
——

"Can I invent something of importance to communicate instead of my

love? Let me see. That will look so odd—to make an assignation for any
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