ings and turnings
of his head, like a fat St. Cecilia masquerading in male attire.
"Figaro qua! Figaro la! Figaro su! Figaro giu!" sang the Count,
jauntily tossing up the concertina at arm's length, and bowing to us,
on one side of the instrument, with the airy grace and elegance of
Figaro himself at twenty years of age.
"Take my word for it, Laura, that man knows something of Sir Percival's
embarrassments," I said, as we returned the Count's salutation from a
safe distance.
"What makes you think that?" she asked.
"How should he have known, otherwise, that Mr. Merriman was Sir
Percival's solicitor?" I rejoined. "Besides, when I followed you out
of the luncheon-room, he told me, without a single word of inquiry on
my part, that something had happened. Depend upon it, he knows more
than we do."
"Don't ask him any questions if he does. Don't take him into our
confidence!"
"You seem to dislike him, Laura, in a very determined manner. What has
he said or done to justify you?"
"Nothing, Marian. On the contrary, he was all kindness and attention
on our journey home, and he several times checked Sir Percival's
outbreaks of temper, in the most considerate manner towards me.
Perhaps I dislike him because he has so much more power over my husband
than I have. Perhaps it hurts my pride to be under any obligations to
his interference. All I know is, that I DO dislike him."
The rest of the day and evening passed quietly enough. The Count and I
played at chess. For the first two games he politely allowed me to
conquer him, and then, when he saw that I had found him out, begged my
pardon, and at the third game checkmated me in ten minutes. Sir
Percival never once referred, all through the evening, to the lawyer's
visit. But either that event, or something else, had produced a
singular alteration for the better in him. He was as polite and
agreeable to all of us, as he used to be in the days of his probation
at Limmeridge, and he was so amazingly attentive and kind to his wife,
that even icy Madame Fosco was roused into looking at him with a grave
surprise. What does this mean? I think I can guess--I am afraid Laura
can guess--and I am sure Count Fosco knows. I caught Sir Percival
looking at him for approval more than once in the course of the evening.
June 17th.--A day of events. I most fervently hope I may not have to
add, a day of disasters as well.
Sir Percival was as silent at breakfast as he ha
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