before us; not always a very enlightened
or cultivated one, but always critical. There, do look at that stupid
groom; see how he suffers my horse to lag behind: the certain way to
have him kicked by the other; and I should die, I mean really die, if
anything happened to Ben Azir. By the way, how well our parson rides!
I declare I like him better in the saddle than in the pulpit. They
rave here about the way he jumps the ox-fences. You must say _tant
des choses_ for me, to him and his sister, whom I fear I have treated
shamefully. I was to have had her to dinner one day, and I forgot all
about it; but she did n't mind, and wrote me the prettiest note in the
world. But I always say, it is so easy for people of small means to be
good-tempered. They have no jealousies about going here or there; no
heartburnings that such a one's lace is Brussels point, and much finer
than their own. Don't you agree with me? There, I knew it would come
to that. He's got the snaffle out of Ben Azir's mouth, and he's sure to
break away."

"That gentleman apparently has come to the rescue. See, he has
dismounted to set all to rights."

"How polite of him! Do you know him, dear?"

"No. I may have seen him before. I 'm so terribly short-sighted, and
this glass does not suit me; but I must be going. I suppose I had better
thank that strange man, had n't I? Oh, of course, dearest, you would be
too bashful; but I 'm not. My old governess, Madame de Forgeon, used to
say that English people never knew how to be bashful; they only looked
culpable. And I protest she was right."

"The gentleman is evidently waiting for your gratitude; he is standing
there still."

"What an observant puss it is!" said Lady Augusta, kissing her. "Tell
Gusty to come and see me. Settle some day to come in and dine, and
bring the parson: he's a great favorite of mine. Where have I dropped my
gauntlet? Oh, here it is. Pretty whip, isn't it? A present, a sort of a
love-gift from an old Russian prince, who wanted me to marry him: and I
said I was afraid; that I heard Russians knouted their wives. And so he
assured me I should have the only whip he ever used, and sent me this.
It was neat, or rather, as Dumas says, 'La plaisanterie n'etait pas mal
pour un Cossaque.' Good-bye, dearest, good-bye."

So actually exhausted was poor Nelly by the rattling impetuosity of Lady
Augusta's manner, her sudden transitions, and abrupt questionings, that,
when Julia entered the room, and