ceptionably, made a
diplomatic bow to Mr. Cockayne and his wife. Cockayne, without ceremony,
plunged _in medias res_. He wanted to look at the rose-leaf with the
diamonds on it. The gentleman in black observed that it became English
ladies' complexion "a ravir."
It occurred to Mr. Cockayne, as it has occurred to many Englishmen in
Paris, that he might make up for his ignorance of French by speaking in
a voice of thunder. He seemed to have come to the conclusion that the
French were a deaf nation, and that they talked a language which he did
not understand in order that he might bear their deafness in mind. For
once in her life Mrs. Cockayne held the same opinion as her husband. She
accordingly, on her side, made what observations she chose to address to
the dignified jeweller in her loudest voice. The jeweller smiled good
naturedly, and pattered his broken English in a subdued and deferential
tone. As Mr. Cockayne found that he did not get on very well, or make
his meaning as clear as crystal by bawling, and as he found that the
polite jeweller could jerk out a few broken phrases of English, the
bright idea struck him that he, Mr. Cockayne, late of Lambeth, would
make his meaning plainer than a pike-staff by speaking broken English
also. The jeweller was puzzled, but he was very patient; and as he kept
passing one bracelet after another over the arm of Mrs. Cockayne, quite
captivated that lady.
"He seems to think we're going to buy all the shop," growled Cockayne.
"How vulgar you are! Lambeth manners don't do in Paris. Mr. Cockayne."
"But they seem to like Lambeth sovereigns, anyhow," was the aggravating
rejoinder.
"If you're going to talk like that, I'll leave the shop, and not have
anything."
This was a threat the lady did not carry out. She bore the enamel
rose-leaf--the leaf with the three diamonds, as her daughters had
affectionately reminded her--off in triumph, having promised that
delightful man, the jeweller, to return and have a look at the bracelets
another day. She was quite enchanted with the low bow the jeweller gave
her as he closed his handsome plate-glass door. He might have been a
duke or a prince, she said.
"Or a footman," Mr. Cockayne added. "I don't call all that bowing and
scraping business."
When Mr. and Mrs. Cockayne returned to the Grand Hotel, they found their
daughters Sophonisba and Theodosia in a state of rapture.
"Mamma, mamma!" cried Sophonisba, holding up a copy of _La
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