s
remarkable fusion of "the two branches of his hymens," as she termed it,
the Pasha was positively dumbfounded. All the more so as my aunt Van
Cloth, who understood no more about this extraordinary position of
affairs than she did of Hebrew, threw herself into his arms, and
exclaimed:

"Ah! Anatole! here you are, dear!--Our Ernest is in danger!"

The bravest man will quail occasionally; and at this unfortunate and
unavoidable attack, which tore asunder the whole veil of mystery, the
splendid composure with which Nature has armed my uncle Barbassou really
deserted him for a moment. But, like a man who is superior to
misfortunes of this sort, when he found himself caught he did not on
this occasion, more than on any other, waste any time over spilt cream.

"Quick! we must go and fetch the child!" he said.

And taking advantage of the fact that my aunt Van Cloth was hanging to
him, he carried her off without any more ado, and went out by the door,
without leaving her time to kiss the Countess of Monteclaro, as she
certainly would have done out of politeness. From the ante-room he
dragged her down to the carriage, where he packed her in.

I was coming down from my own chambers just as he returned from this
summary execution. Although about the last thing I expected to come in
for was the climax of a tragic occurrence, I could see easily enough
that my uncle had experienced some little shock; but the announcement of
dinner and the ordinary tone of my aunt's reception creating a
diversion, I did not feel certain until we were seated at table that
there was some storm in the air which was only restrained from bursting
by the presence of the servants. The Pasha, sitting in silence with his
head bent down into his plate, seemed to be absorbed by some abstruse
considerations, which caused him that evening to forget to grumble at
the cook. My aunt, on the contrary, sparkling with humour, and in her
most charming and gracious mood, suggested by her smiles a certain
lightness of heart: he eyed her suspiciously from time to time, like a
man with an uncomfortable conscience.

When the meal was over we returned to the drawing-room, and coffee being
served, remained there alone. The Countess of Monteclaro, still as
gracious as ever, made some sly thrusts at him, the significance of
which escaped me somewhat. The captain evidently was keeping very quiet.
Finally, after half an hour, as I was about to leave, and he showed
symptoms