young lady--probably his
daughter; from his dress, he was either a dean or a bishop, and I
sat opposite to him--in the corner.

Barty was very noisy and excited as the train moved off; he was rather
tipsy, in fact--and I was alarmed, on account of the clerical gentleman
and his female companion. As we journeyed on, Barty began to romp and
play the fool and perform fantastic tricks--to the immense delight of
the future Field-Marshal. He twisted two pocket-handkerchiefs into human
figures, one on each hand, and made them sing to each other--like Grisi
and Mario in the _Huguenots_--and clever drivel of that kind. Lord
Archibald and Colonel Lindsay were beside themselves with glee at all
this; they also had dined well.

Then he imitated a poor man fishing in St. James's Park and not
catching any fish. And this really was uncommonly good and true to
life--with wonderful artistic details, that showed keen observation.

I saw that the bishop and his daughter (if such they were) grew
deeply interested, and laughed and chuckled discreetly; the young
lady had a charming expression on her face as she watched the
idiotic Barty, who got more idiotic with every mile--and this was to
be the man who wrote _Sardonyx_!

As the train slowed into the London station, the bishop leant
forward towards me and inquired, in a whisper,

"May I ask the name of your singularly delightful young friend?"

"His name is Barty Josselin," I answered.

"Not of the Grenadier Guards?"

"Yes."

"Oh, indeed! a--yes--I've heard of him--"

And his lordship's face became hard and stern--and soon we all got
out.

Part Fourth

"La cigale ayant chante
Tout l'ete,
Se trouva fort depourvue
Quand la bise fut venue."...

--Lafontaine.

Sometimes I went to see Lord and Lady Archibald, who lived in
Clarges Street; and Lady Archibald was kind enough to call on my
mother, who was charmed with her, and returned her call in due time.

Also, at about this period (1853) my uncle Charles (Captain Blake,
late 17th Lancers), who had been Lord Runswick's crony twenty years
before, patched up some feud he had with my father, and came to see
us in Brunswick Square.

He had just married a charming girl, young enough to be his
daughter.

I took him to see Barty, and they became fast friends. My uncle
Charles was a very accomplished man, and spoke French as well as any
of us; and Barty liked him, and it ended, oddly enough