No, monsieur. In France I have got a cousin who is a man with a very
bad temper at some time', and he will never enjoy his relatives to do
what he does not wish--"
He was interrupted by a loud commotion from without. The door was flung
open, and the young Count of Beaujolais bounded in and threw his arms
about the neck of M. Beaucaire.
"Philippe!" he cried. "My brother, I have come to take you back with
me."
M. de Mirepoix followed him, bowing as a courtier, in deference; but M.
Beaucaire took both his hands heartily. Molyneux came after, with Mr.
Nash, and closed the door.
"My warmest felicitations," said the Marquis. "There is no longer need
for your incognito."
"Thou best of masters!" said Beaucaire, touching him fondly on the
shoulder. "I know. Your courier came safely. And so I am forgiven! But
I forget." He turned to the lady. She had begun to tremble exceedingly.
"Faires' of all the English fair," he said, as the gentlemen bowed low
to her deep courtesy, "I beg the honor to presen' to Lady Mary Carlisle,
M. le Comte de Beaujolais. M. de Mirepoix has already the honor. Lady
Mary has been very kind to me, my frien's; you mus' help me make my
acknowledgment. Mademoiselle and gentlemen, will you give me that favour
to detain you one instan'?"
"Henri," he turned to the young Beaujolais, "I wish you had shared my
masque--I have been so gay!" The surface of his tone was merry, but
there was an undercurrent, weary--sad, to speak of what was the mood,
not the manner. He made the effect of addressing every one present, but
he looked steadily at Lady Mary. Her eyes were fixed upon him, with a
silent and frightened fascination, and she trembled more and more. "I am
a great actor, Henri. These gentlemen are yet scarce convince' I am not
a lackey! And I mus' tell you that I was jus' now to be expelled for
having been a barber!"
"Oh, no!" the ambassador cried out. "He would not be content with me;
he would wander over a strange country."
"Ha, ha, my Mirepoix! And what is better, one evening I am oblige'
to fight some frien's of M. de Winterset there, and some ladies and
cavaliers look on, and they still think me a servant. Oh, I am a great
actor! 'Tis true there is not a peasant in France who would not have
then known one 'born'; but they are wonderful, this English people,
holding by an idea once it is in their heads--a mos' worthy quality. But
my good Molyneux here, he had speak to me with courtesy, jus' bec
|