cried very fiercely, "I will suffer no such liberties in my presence:
remember, it is only my condescension which permits you to share my
bottle in this way; take care I don't give you instead a taste of my
cane." So saying, he, in a protecting manner, placed one hand round
Mrs. Catherine's waist, holding the other clenched very near to the
Corporal's nose.

Mrs. Catherine, for HER share of this action of the Count's, dropped
another curtsey and said, "Thank you, my Lord." But Galgenstein's threat
did not appear to make any impression on Mr. Brock, as indeed there was
no reason that it should; for the Corporal, at a combat of fisticuffs,
could have pounded his commander into a jelly in ten minutes; so he
contented himself by saying, "Well, noble Captain, there's no harm done;
it IS an honour for poor old Peter Brock to be at table with you, and I
AM sorry, sure enough."

"In truth, Peter, I believe thou art; thou hast good reason, eh, Peter?
But never fear, man; had I struck thee, I never would have hurt thee."

"I KNOW you would not," replied Brock, laying his hand on his heart
with much gravity; and so peace was made, and healths were drunk. Miss
Catherine condescended to put her lips to the Captain's glass; who swore
that the wine was thus converted into nectar; and although the girl had
not previously heard of that liquor, she received the compliment as a
compliment, and smiled and simpered in return.

The poor thing had never before seen anybody so handsome, or so finely
dressed as the Count; and, in the simplicity of her coquetry, allowed
her satisfaction to be quite visible. Nothing could be more clumsy than
the gentleman's mode of complimenting her; but for this, perhaps, his
speeches were more effective than others more delicate would have been;
and though she said to each, "Oh, now, my Lord," and "La, Captain, how
can you flatter one so?" and "Your honour's laughing at me," and made
such polite speeches as are used on these occasions, it was manifest
from the flutter and blush, and the grin of satisfaction which lighted
up the buxom features of the little country beauty, that the Count's
first operations had been highly successful. When following up his
attack, he produced from his neck a small locket (which had been given
him by a Dutch lady at the Brill), and begged Miss Catherine to wear it
for his sake, and chucked her under the chin and called her his little
rosebud, it was pretty clear how things wou