LITMIR.BIZ

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I don’t know, I’ve never moved in society. Fairbrother is a grocer on a large scale. I don’t mean that he is personally on a large scale, but I mean the grocery is. The Chanticleer property is no particular odds to me or Jacket, if my aunt has left it us, and Betsy was Jacket’s godmamma. I may say to you that Fairbrother has done uncommon well in business, and laid by a lot of money, and might retire, if he were of a retiring disposition, which he ain’t. Jacket will have twenty-five thousand pounds when she marries, and when her father and I are dead and gone, as much more; so a little pinch of French dust and a shovel of French francs are no consideration to us, and we wouldn’t be thought unhandsome by nobody. Leastways I wouldn’t. I don’t think Jacket considers it much; if there was any sign that there’d been a bit of underhand dealing, not that I give Betsy the discredit of it—she was a right good Protestant up-and-down woman, and no quirks and crinkum-cranklums in her conscience. Lord! where was I got to? I’m in a regular tangle.’

      ‘You’ve got where you can’t see the sunset,’ said Asheton, sulkily; he was looking over his shoulder at the baron, who had edged away with Jacquetta to a considerable distance on the rampart, and was pointing out to her the isle and fortress of La Conchée, that was steeped in the orange glory of the declining sun.

      ‘I wouldn’t do an unhandsome thing for the world,’ continued the unwearied, unflagging Mrs. Fairbrother. ‘I wouldn’t profit not a grain of mustard seed by any underhand and mean tricks, if Aunt Betsy were capable of ’em, which I don’t believe. Still, she lived a lot in France, and you can’t live among sinners and not consent to them, nor touch pitch and not be defiled. I’d rather give up our claim than have it thought by the Monkeytowers or any one else that we’d come into what we’d no good rights to. I daresay I don’t express myself very clearly, but you can understand me. I’m a square woman, and I want to be always square. You can understand that—square, all round.’

      ‘I understand,’ said Asheton, biting his lips. ‘Shall we push on further? The baron has gained a vantage point—for the view!’

      ‘Certainly—but you will advise me.’

      ‘O yes. You shall know my opinion when we get to Nantes.’

      ‘Lauk-a-dear!’ exclaimed Mrs. Fairbrother, to her daughter. ‘What gibberish are you talking, Jacket?’

      ‘Oh, mamma, M. de Montcontour is so kind. He insists on my speaking French with him, so as to familiarise me with the language, and—he does not laugh at my mistakes.’

      ‘Mademoiselle is incapable of a mistake, she gives laws to everything—to our language,’ said the baron.

      ‘My word! that’s blarney again,’ exclaimed the down-right old lady.

      ‘I have been suggesting, madame,’ said the baron, ‘that as we are all going the same way, we should share a carriage and posthorses; the voiturier would conduct his own voiture. The diligence may be quicker, but it is less convenient.’

      ‘And I replied,’ answered Miss Fairbrother, ‘that as we are hastening to my poor great-aunt, and do not know whether she is alive, we must not consider our convenience, but press on as expeditiously as possible.’

      ‘If that concern we saw in the yard like a yellow wasp without a waist is what you call a diligence,’ said Mrs. Fairbrother, ‘nothing on earth will induce me to travel in it. I never in all my life saw such a ramshackle conveyance. I wonder the Government are not ashamed to own it. Besides, it is dirty. I am convinced that the linings swarm with—well, fleas is too mild a term for the creatures. And as to its being more expeditious, I don’t believe it. I saw the post-horses bring it in. They ought to have been at the knacker’s years ago. My dear, I’m not going to be bitten and eaten for Aunt Betsy or anybody. I did not come to France to be cannibalised.’

      Presently the sun disappeared and the air was chill. Mrs. Fairbrother said it was time to go back to the inn. The gentlemen attended them and parted at the door; Asheton shook hands, but the baron only bowed low and took off and waved his hat with magnificent politeness.

      As soon as the ladies had disappeared. ‘Montcontour,’ said Asheton, ‘I am afraid we shall quarrel. You take unfair advantage of me. Do you know that this sweet girl is worth over six hundred thousand francs now and as many more in prospective?’

      ‘If you had said a million, mon ami, I would have replied that you undervalued her.’

      ‘A truce to your complimentary speeches. She can’t hear you and they will not be repeated by me. It is a fact. The mother told me as much, and that old butter-tub is a truthful woman.’

      ‘You mean this!—in cash, six hundred thousand francs!’

      ‘Why, I’m not worth as much—that gentile petite would be precious without anything—but——’

      ‘Yes, exactly, but. What do you mean by that but?’

      ‘There is a mother.’

      ‘There is, Alphonse, a serious counterweight. She is a, thoroughly good woman, honourable, kind-hearted, high-principled, but——’

      ‘Précisément, Jacques—mais——’

      Chapter III

       Table of Contents

      When the two young men returned to their inn—not the Hôtel de France—they went into the café and called for café noir, at a little marble-topped table in a corner, and lit their cigars.

      ‘Jacques,’ said the baron, when the waiter had withdrawn, ‘cette jeune fille me trotte en tete.’

      ‘Moi aussi,’ answered Asheton; ‘she is miles ahead of the girls at Nantes. Besides—there is that twenty-five thousand pounds sterling.’

      ‘You must not think of her,’ said the baron, hastily, ‘you have been paying court to your English consul’s daughter—that beautiful blonde.’

      ‘Ah, bah!—nothing serious.’

      ‘You may think so, but the poor girl adores you.’

      ‘Possibly,’ answered Asheton, twirling his cigar, and letting the smoke escape in a spiral from his lips—then, after a pause, with an air of consequence, ‘a man can’t help it if a girl likes him—cats may look at kings without kings stooping to scratch their necks.’

      ‘You will break the heart of the blonde, Jacques.’

      ‘That is her affair. I have given her no encouragement. She is worth nothing, and this angel is worth fifty thousand pounds.’

      ‘For shame, you are mercenary, you—with your father’s purse to draw out of.’

      ‘My father has a long purse, it is true.’ Asheton threw one leg over the other, an arm over the back of his chair, and leaned back with his chin in the air. ‘You are mighty eager to couple me with the consul’s daughter, Alphonse.’

      ‘I—oh, I care nothing about it; but she is a nice girl, and domestic and amiable; she would make you happy.’

      ‘I hate tame cats.’

      ‘She is very polished.’

      ‘All the more slippery.’

      ‘Oh, Jacques! you are false. I know you admired her.

      ‘Pardon. She admired me, and I respected her taste.’

      ‘She is really very pretty.’

      ‘Then take her yourself. That is enough of the blonde.’

      The baron and Asheton continued smoking, then called for small glasses of yellow Chartreuse.

      ‘It is of no use, Alphonse,’ said Asheton, superciliously, ‘your letting

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