w rescuing
her from the Arabs, with a plenty of sabres, pistols, burnouses, and
dromedaries. He made a pretty sketch of her little girl Antoinette, and
a wonderful likeness of Miss O'Grady, the little girl's governess, the
mother's dame de compagnie;--Miss O'Grady, with the richest Milesian
brogue, who had been engaged to give Antoinette the pure English accent.
But the French lady's great eyes and painted smiles would not bear
comparison with Ethel's natural brightness and beauty. Clive, who had
been appointed painter in ordinary to the Queen of Scots, neglected his
business, and went over to the English faction; so did one or two
more of the Princess's followers, leaving her Majesty by no means well
pleased at their desertion.

There had been many quarrels between M. d'Ivry and his next-of-kin.
Political differences, private differences--a long story. The Duke, who
had been wild himself, could not pardon the Vicomte de Florac for
being wild. Efforts at reconciliation had been made which ended
unsuccessfully. The Vicomte de Florac had been allowed for a brief space
to be intimate with the chief of his family, and then had been dismissed
for being too intimate. Right or wrong, the Duke was jealous of all
young men who approached the Duchesse. "He is suspicious," Madame de
Florac indignantly said, "because he remembers: and he thinks other men
are like himself." The Vicomte discreetly said, "My cousin has paid me
the compliment to be jealous of me," and acquiesced in his banishment
with a shrug.

During the emigration the old Lord Kew had been very kind to exiles, M.
d'Ivry amongst the number; and that nobleman was anxious to return to
all Lord Kew's family when they came to France the hospitality which
he had received himself in England. He still remembered or professed to
remember Lady Kew's beauty. How many women are there, awful of aspect,
at present, of whom the same pleasing legend is not narrated! It must be
true, for do not they themselves confess it? I know of few things
more remarkable or suggestive of philosophic contemplation than those
physical changes.

When the old Duke and the old Countess met together and talked
confidentially, their conversation bloomed into a jargon wonderful to
hear. Old scandals woke up, old naughtinesses rose out of their graves,
and danced, and smirked, and gibbered again, like those wicked nuns
whom Bertram and Robert le Diable evoke from their sepulchres whilst
the bassoon pe