for courtesy and a little too
much for deference," whispered Eccles in my ear; for I was kissing her
hand about a hundred times over, and she laughing at my raptures as an
excellent joke. "I think you 'd better lead the way to supper."

Secretly resolving that I would soon make very short work of Mr.
Eccles and his admonitions, I gave him a haughty glance and moved on.
I remember very little more than that I walked to the head of the table
and placed Pauline on my right I know I made some absurd speech
in return for their drinking my health, and spoke of us and what
_we_--Pauline and myself--felt, and with what pleasure we should see
our friends often around us, and a deal of that tawdry trash that conies
into a brain addled with noise and heated with wine. I was frequently
interrupted; uproarious cheers at one moment would break forth, but
still louder laughter would ring out and convulse the whole assembly.
Even addled and confused as I was, I could see that some were my
partisans and friends, who approved of all I said, and wished me to give
a free course to my feelings; and there were others--two or three--who
tried to stop me; and one actually said aloud, "If that boy of
Nor-cott's is not suppressed, we shall have no supper."

Recalled to my dignity as a host by this impertinence, I believe I put
some restraint on my eloquence, and I now addressed myself to do the
honors of the table. Alas, my attentions seldom strayed beyond my lovely
neighbor, and I firmly believed that none could remark the rapture with
which I gazed on her, or as much as suspected that I had never quitted
the grasp of her hand from the moment we sat down.

"I suspect you 'd better let Mademoiselle dance the cotillon with the
Count Vauglas," whispered Eccles in my ear.

"And why, sir?" rejoined I, half fiercely.

"I think you might guess," said he, with a smile; "at least, you could
if you were to get up."

"And would she--would Pauline--I mean, would Mademoiselle
Delorme--approve of this arrangement?"

"No, Monsieur Digby, not if it did not come from you. We shall sit in
the shade yonder for half an hour or so, and then, when you are rested,
we 'll join the cotillon."

"Get that boy off to bed, Eccles," said Cleremont, who did not scruple
to utter the words aloud.

I started up to make an indignant rejoinder; some fierce insult was on
my lips; but passion and excitement and wine mastered me, and I sank
back on my seat overcome and se