ece
of muffin. Out with you, I say! Out with ye! you're a nasty dirty
blackguard; I'm done with you for ever. I detest the sight of you and
hate ye afresh every time I see you!"

"Doucement, mon cher Colonel," interposed the Countess, "ve sall play
anoder game, and you sall had von better chance," clapping him on the
back as she spoke. "I von't!" bellowed Jorrocks. "Turn this chap out
first. I'll do it myself. H'Agamemnon! H'Agamemnon! happortez my sword!
bring my sword! tout suite, directly!"

"Police! Police! Police!" screamed the Countess out of the window;
"Police! Police! Police!" bellowed Agamemnon from the next one; "Police!
Police! Police!" re-echoed the grisly porter down below; and before
they had time to reflect on what had passed, a sergeant's file of the
National Guard had entered the hotel, mounted the stairs, and taken
possession of the apartment. The sight of the soldiers with their bright
bayonets, all fixed and gleaming as they were, cooled Mr. Jorrocks's
courage in an instant, and, after standing a few seconds in petrified
astonishment, he made a dart at his jack-boots and bolted out of the
room. The Countess Benvolio then unlocked her secretaire, in which was a
plated liqueur-stand with bottles and glasses, out of which she
poured the sergeant three, and the privates two glasses each of pure
_eau-de-vie,_ after which Agamemnon showed them the top of the stairs.

In less than ten minutes all was quiet again, and the Yorkshireman was
occupying Mr. Jorrocks's stool. The Countess then began putting things
a little in order, adorned the deal table with the rose-coloured
cover--before doing which she swept off Mr. Jorrocks's mustachios, and
thrust a dirty white handkerchief and the small tooth-comb under the
cushion of a chair--while Agamemnon carried away the plate with the
bones. "Ah, le pauvre Colonel," said the Countess, eyeing the bones as
they passed, "he sall be von grand homme to eat--him eat toujours--all
day long--Oh, him mange beaucoup--beaucoup--beaucoup. He is von vare
amiable man, bot he sall not be moch patience. I guess he sall be vare
rich--n'est ce pas? have many guinea?--He say he keep beaucoup des
chiens--many dogs for the hont--he sail be vot dey call rom customer
(rum customer) in Angleterre, I think."

Thus she went rattling on, telling the Yorkshireman all sorts of stories
about the _pauvre_ Colonel, whom she seemed ready to change for a
younger piece of goods with a more modera