is your 'jeune heros,'
'l'homme du peuple?' I do not see him. Does he wear clouted shoes and
woollen stockings? Has he a broad face and turned-up nose, like your
'paysans Anglais'?"

"Judge for yourself, my lady--he stands at your elbow. Mr. Halifax,
let me present you to Lady Caroline Brithwood."

If Lord Luxmore's fair daughter ever looked confounded in her life she
certainly did at this minute.

"Lui? Mon dieu! Lui!" And her shrug of amazement was stopped, her
half-extended hand drawn back. No, it was quite impossible to
patronise John Halifax.

He bowed gravely, she made a gracious curtsey; they met on equal terms,
a lady and gentleman.

Soon her lively manner returned. She buckled on her spurs for a new
conquest, and left the already vanquished gentilities of Norton Bury to
amuse themselves as they best might.

"I am enchanted to meet you, Mr. Halifax; I adore 'le peuple.'
Especially"--with a sly glance at her husband, who, with Tory Dr.
Jessop, was vehemently exalting Mr. Pitt and abusing the First Consul,
Bonaparte--"especially le peuple Francais. Me comprenez vous?"

"Madame, je vous comprends."

Her ladyship looked surprised. French was not very common among the
honest trading class, or indeed any but the higher classes in England.

"But," John continued, "I must dissent from Lady Caroline Brithwood, if
she mingles the English people with 'le peuple Francais.' They are a
very different class of beings."

"Ah, ca ira, ca ira"--she laughed, humming beneath her breath a few
notes out of that terrible song. "But you know French--let us talk in
that language; we shall horrify no one then."

"I cannot speak it readily; I am chiefly self-taught."

"The best teaching. Mon dieu! Truly you are made to be 'un
hero'--just the last touch of grace that a woman's hand gives--had you
ever a woman for your friend?--and you would be complete. But I cannot
flatter--plain, blunt honesty for me. You must--you shall be--'l'homme
du peuple.' Were you born such?--Who were your parents?"

I saw John hesitate; I knew how rarely he ever uttered those names
written in the old Bible--how infinitely sacred they were to him. Could
he blazon them out now, to gratify this woman's idle curiosity?

"Madam," he said, gravely, "I was introduced to you simply as John
Halifax. It seems to me that, so long as I do no discredit to it, the
name suffices to the world."

"Ah--I see! I see!" But he, with his downcast