CHAPTER LXV.
MISS LONGESTAFFE WRITES HOME.
Lady Monogram, when she left Madame Melmotte's house after that entertainment of Imperial Majesty which had been to her of so very little avail, was not in a good humour. Sir Damask, who had himself affected to laugh at the whole thing, but who had been in truth as anxious as his wife to see the Emperor in private society, put her ladyship and Miss Longestaffe into the carriage without a word, and rushed off to his club in disgust. The affair from beginning to end, including the final failure, had been his wife's doing. He had been made to work like a slave, and had been taken against his will to Melmotte's house, and had seen no Emperor and shaken hands with no Prince! "They may fight it out between them now like the Kilkenny cats." That was his idea as he closed the carriage-door on the two ladies,—thinking that if a larger remnant were left of one cat than of the other that larger remnant would belong to his wife.
"What a horrid affair!" said Lady Monogram. "Did anybody ever see anything so vulgar?" This was at any rate unreasonable, for whatever vulgarity there may have been, Lady Monogram had seen none of it.
"I don't know why you were so late," said Georgiana.
"Late! Why it's not yet twelve. I don't suppose it was eleven when we got into the Square. Anywhere else it would have been early."
"You knew they did not mean to stay long. It was particularly said so. I really think it was your own fault."
"My own fault. Yes;—I don't doubt that. I know it was my own fault, my dear, to have had anything to do with it. And now I have got to pay for it."
"What do you mean by paying for it, Julia?"