Chon rang and Zamore came in to get the order. He started off so slowly, and humping up his back, that the mistress cried:
"Is that slowcoach going to make me perish of hunger? If he plays the camel and does not hurry, he'll get a hundred lashes on his back."
"Me no hurry—me gubbernor," replied the black boy, majestically.
"You a governor?" screamed the lady, flourishing a fancy riding whip kept to maintain order among the spaniels. "I'll give you a lesson in governing."
But the negro ran out yelling.
"You are quite ferocious, Jeanne," remarked her sister.
"Surely I have the right to be ferocious in my own house?"
"Certainly; but I am going to elope, for fear I may be devoured alive."
Three knocks on the door came to interrupt the outbreak.
"Hang it all—who is bothering now?" cried the countess, stamping her foot.