"No, mem!—I'm all for the ladies."
"What does he say?" asked Madame Caumartin.
"Monsieur Higgins est tout pour les dames."
"To be sure he is," cried Mr. Love; "all the English are, especially with that coloured hair; a lady who likes a passionate adorer should always marry a man with gold-coloured hair—always. What do you say, Mademoiselle Adele?"
"Oh, I like fair hair," said Mademoiselle, looking bashfully askew at Monsieur Goupille's peruque. "Grandmamma said her papa—the marquis— used yellow powder: it must have been very pretty."
"Rather a la sucre d' orge," remarked the epicier, smiling on the
right side of his mouth, where his best teeth were. Mademoiselle de
Courval looked displeased. "I fear you are a republican, Monsieur
Goupille."
"I, Mademoiselle. No; I'm for the Restoration;" and again the epicier perplexed himself to discover the association of idea between republicanism and sucre d'orge.
"Another glass of wine. Come, another," said Mr. Love, stretching across the Vicomte to help Madame Canmartin.
"Sir," said the tall Frenchman with the riband, eying the epicier with great disdain, "you say you are for the Restoration—I am for the Empire —Moi!"
"No politics!" cried Mr. Love. "Let us adjourn to the salon."