household, as I called it, should give his arm to the daughter of
the house." And then he told Pen the grand secret which he had had from
Madame Fribsby of the violent passion under which the poor artist was
labouring.

When Arthur heard this tale, he broke out into a hearty laugh, in which
Strong joined, and his rage against the poor cook vanished at once. He
had been absurdly jealous himself all the evening, and had longed for a
pretext to insult Pynsent. He remembered how jealous he had been of Oaks
in his first affair; he was ready to pardon anything to a man under a
passion like that: and he went into the coffee-room where Mirobolant was
waiting, with an outstretched hand, and made him a speech in French,
in which he declared that he was "sincerement fache d'avoir use une
expression qui avoit pu blesser Monsieur Mirobolant, et qu'il donnoit sa
parole comme un gentilhomme qu'il ne l'avoit jamais, jamais--intende,"
said Pen, who made a shot at a French word for "intended," and was
secretly much pleased with his own fluency and correctness in speaking
that language.

"Bravo, bravo!" cried Strong, as much amused with Pen's speech as
pleased by his kind manner. And the Chevalier Mirobolant of course
withdraws, and sincerely regrets the expression of which he made use.

"Monsieur Pendennis has disproved my words himself," said Alcide with
great politeness; "he has shown that he is a galant homme."

And so they shook hands and parted, Arthur in the first place
despatching his note to Laura before he and Strong committed themselves
to the Butcher Boy.

As they drove along, Strong complimented Pen upon his behaviour, as well
as upon his skill in French. "You're a good fellow, Pendennis, and you
speak French like Chateaubriand, by Jove."

"I've been accustomed to it from my youth upwards," said Pen; and Strong
had the grace not to laugh for five minutes, when he exploded into fits
of hilarity which Pendennis has never perhaps understood up to this day.

It was daybreak when they got to the Brawl, where they separated.
By that time the ball at Baymouth was over too. Madame Fribsby and
Mirobolant were on their way home in the Clavering fly; Laura was in bed
with an easy heart and asleep at Lady Rockminster's; and the Claverings
at rest at the inn at Baymouth, where they had quarters for the night.
A short time after the disturbance between Pen and the chef, Blanche had
come out of the refreshment-room, looking as pale a