cajoling and coaxing, or threatening; and we are always making
mischief, Colonel Esmond--mark my word for that, who know the world,
sir, and have to make my way in it. I see as well as possible how
Frank's marriage hath been managed. The Count, our papa-in-law, is
always away at the coffee-house. The Countess, our mother, is always in
the kitchen looking after the dinner. The Countess, our sister, is at
the spinet. When my lord comes to say he is going on the campaign, the
lovely Clotilda bursts into tears, and faints--so; he catches her in his
arms--no, sir, keep your distance, cousin, if you please--she cries
on his shoulder, and he says, 'Oh, my divine, my adored, my beloved
Clotilda, are you sorry to part with me?' 'Oh, my Francisco,' says
she, 'oh my lord!' and at this very instant mamma and a couple of young
brothers, with moustaches and long rapiers, come in from the kitchen,
where they have been eating bread and onions. Mark my word, you will
have all this woman's relations at Castlewood three months after she has
arrived there. The old count and countess, and the young counts and all
the little countesses her sisters. Counts! every one of these wretches
says he is a count. Guiscard, that stabbed Mr. Harvey, said he was
a count; and I believe he was a barber. All Frenchmen are
barbers--Fiddledee! don't contradict me--or else dancing-masters, or
else priests." And so she rattled on.

"Who was it taught YOU to dance, Cousin Beatrix?" says the Colonel.

She laughed out the air of a minuet, and swept a low curtsy, coming up
to the recover with the prettiest little foot in the world pointed out.
Her mother came in as she was in this attitude; my lady had been in her
closet, having taken poor Frank's conversion in a very serious way; the
madcap girl ran up to her mother, put her arms round her waist, kissed
her, tried to make her dance, and said: "Don't be silly, you kind little
mamma, and cry about Frank turning Papist. What a figure he must be,
with a white sheet and a candle, walking in a procession barefoot!" And
she kicked off her little slippers (the wonderfullest little shoes
with wonderful tall red heels: Esmond pounced upon one as it fell close
beside him), and she put on the drollest little moue, and marched up and
down the room holding Esmond's cane by way of taper. Serious as her mood
was, Lady Castlewood could not refrain from laughing; and as for
Esmond he looked on with that delight with which the sight