“I have that honour,” said I. “I receive from him every morning lessons both in love and languages. He is perfect master of both.”
Mrs. Green burst out into one of those peals so peculiarly British.
“Ah, le pauvre Professeur!” cried she. “He is too absurd!”
“He tells me,” said I, gravely, “that he is quite accable with his bonnes fortunes—possibly he flatters himself that even you are not perfectly inaccessible to his addresses.”
“Tell me, Mr. Pelham,” said the fair Mrs. Green, “can you pass by this street about half past twelve to-night?”
“I will make a point of doing so,” replied I, not a little surprised by the remark.
“Do,” said she, “and now let us talk of old England.”
When we went away I told Vincent of my appointment. “What!” said he, “eclipse Monsieur Margot! Impossible!”
“You are right,” replied I, “nor is it my hope; there is some trick afloat of which we may as well be spectators.”
“De tout mon coeur!” answered Vincent; “let us go till then to the Duchesse de G——.”