ce at Marcoline, and we had to hold our
sides to prevent ourselves laughing. My niece could bear it no more, and
said,--

"How I pity you, dear uncle!"

At this he blushed, and began to address the most absurd compliments to
her, styling her "my dear niece." I told him to be silent, and not to
speak French till he was able to express himself in that equivocal
language without making a fool of himself. But the poet Pogomas spoke no
better than he did.

I was curious to know what had happened at Mentone after we had left, and
Pogomas proceeded to tell the story.

"When we came back from our walk we were greatly astonished not to find
the felucca any more. We went to the inn, where I knew you had ordered
dinner; but the inn-keeper knew nothing except that he was expecting the
prince and a young officer to dine with you. I told him he might wait for
you in vain, and just then the prince came up in a rage, and told the
inn-keeper that now you were gone he might look to you for his payment.
'My lord,' said the inn-keeper, 'the gentleman wanted to pay me, but I
respected the orders I had received from your highness and would not take
the money.' At this the prince flung him a louis with an ill grace, and
asked us who we were. I told him that we belonged to you, and that you
had not waited for us either, which put us to great trouble. 'You will
get away easily enough,' said he; and then he began to laugh, and swore
the jest was a pleasant one. He then asked me who the ladies were. I told
him that the one was your niece, and that I knew nothing of the other;
but the abbe interfered, and said she was your cuisine. The prince
guessed he meant to say 'cousin,' and burst out laughing, in which he was
joined by the young officer. 'Greet him from me,' said he, as he went
away, 'and tell him that we shall meet again, and that I will pay him out
for the trick he has played me.' The worthy host laughed, too, when the
prince had gone, and gave us a good dinner, saying that the prince's
Louis would pay for it all. When we had dined we hired two horses, and
slept at Nice. In the morning we rode on again, being certain of finding
you here." Marcoline told the abbe in a cold voice to take care not to
tell anyone else that she was his cuisine, or his cousin, or else it
would go ill with him, as she did not wish to be thought either the one
or the other. I also advised him seriously not to speak French for the
future, as the absurd way in w