the question. She is wot we
men would call an enchantin' female!" And Briggs kissed the tips of his
fingers and waved them in the air as he had seen certain foreign
gentlemen do when enthusiastic.

"I comprehend," said the French maid, nodding emphatically. "Then, if
she is so, what makes that proud Seigneur Bruce-Errington visit her?"
Here she shook her finger at Briggs. "And leave his beautiful lady wife,
to go and see her?" Another shake. "And that _miserable_ Sieur Lennox to
go also? Tell me that!" She folded her arms, like Napoleon at St.
Helena, and smiled again that smile which was nothing but a sneer.
Briggs rubbed his nose contemplatively.

"Little Francis can go ennywheres," he said at last. "He's laid out a
good deal of tin on Vi and others of 'er purfession. You cannot make
enny-think of that young feller but a cad. I would not accept 'im for my
pussonal attendant. No! But Sir Philip Bruce-Errington--" He paused,
then continued, "Air you sure of your facts, Mamzelle?"

Mamzelle was so sure, that the bow on her cap threatened to come off
with the determined wagging of her head.

"Well," resumed Briggs, "Sir Philip may, like hothers, consider it 'the
thing' you know, to 'ang on as it were to Vi. But I _'ad_ thought 'im
superior to it. Ah! poor 'uman natur, as 'Uxley says!" and Briggs
sighed. "Lady Errington is a sweet creetur, Mamzelle--a _very_ sweet
creetur! _Has_ a rule I find the merest nod of my 'ed a sufficient
saloot to a woman of the aristocracy--but for _'er_, Mamzelle, I never
fail to show 'er up with a court bow!" And involuntarily Briggs bowed
then and there in his most elegant manner. Mamzelle tightened her thin
lips a little and waved her hand expressively.

"She is an angel of beauty!" she said, "and Miladi Winsleigh is
jealous--ah, _Dieu!_ jealous to death of her! She is innocent too--like
a baby--and she worships her husband. That is an error! To worship a man
is a great mistake--she will find it so. Men are not to be too much
loved--no, no!"

Briggs smiled in superb self-consciousness. "Well, well! I will not
deny, Mamzelle, that it spoils us," he said complacently. "It certainly
spoils us! 'When lovely woman stoops to folly,'--the hold, hold story!"

"You will r-r-r-emember," said Mamzelle, suddenly stepping up very close
to him and speaking with a strong accent, "what I have said to-night!
Monsieur Briggs, you will r-remember! There will be mees-cheef!
Yes--there will be mees-cheef