ridegroom, a rosy, middle-aged peasant woman, evidently the mother of
the bride, and an elderly couple who looked like humble townsfolk, and
were probably related to one or other of the newly-married pair.
Dalrymple opened the attack by stumbling against the mother, and then
overwhelming her with elaborate apologies.

"In these crowded places, Madame," said he, in his fluent French, "one
is scarcely responsible for an impoliteness. I beg ten thousand pardons,
however. I hope I have not hurt you?"

"_Ma foi!_ no, M'sieur. It would take more than that to hurt me!"

"Nor injured your dress, I trust, Madame?"

"_Ah, par exemple_! do I wear muslins or gauzes that they should not
bear touching? No, no, no, M'sieur--thanking you all the same."

"You are very amiable, Madame, to say so."

"You are very polite, M'sieur, to think so much of a trifle."

"Nothing is a trifle, Madame, where a lady is concerned. At least, so we
Englishmen consider."

"Bah! M'sieur is not English?"

"Indeed, Madame, I am."

"_Mais, mon Dieu! c'est incroyable_. Suzette--brother Jacques--Andre, do
you hear this? M'sieur, here, swears that he is English, and yet he
speaks French like one of ourselves! Ah, what a fine thing learning is!"

"I may say with truth, Madame, that I never appreciate the advantages of
education so highly, as when they enable me to converse with ladies who
are not my own countrywomen," said Dalrymple, carrying on the
conversation with as much studied politeness as if his interlocutor had
been a duchess. "But--excuse the observation--you are here, I imagine,
upon a happy occasion?"

The mother laughed, and rubbed her hands.

"_Dame_! one may see that," replied she, "with one's eyes shut! Yes,
M'sieur,--yes--their wedding-day, the dear children--their wedding-day!
They've been betrothed these two years."

"The bride is very like you, Madame," said Dalrymple, gravely. "Your
younger sister, I presume?"

"_Ah, quel farceur_! He takes my daughter for my sister! Suzette, do
you hear this? M'sieur is killing me with laughter!"

And the good lady chuckled, and gasped, and wiped her eyes, and dealt
Dalrymple a playful push between the shoulders, which would have upset
the balance of any less heavy dragoon.

"Your daughter, Madame!" said he. "Allow me to congratulate you. May I
also be permitted to congratulate the bride?" And with this he took off
his hat to Suzette and shook hands with Andre, who looked not
overpleased