CHAPTER XXII.
At length the treacherous snare was laid, Poor pug was caught—to town convey’d; There sold. How envied was his doom, Made captive in a lady’s room!—Gay’s Fables.
I was sitting alone a morning or two after this adventure, when Bedos entering, announced une dame. This dame was a fine tall thing, dressed out like a print in the Magasin des Modes. She sate herself down, threw up her veil, and, after a momentary pause, asked me if I liked my apartment?
“Very much,” said I, somewhat surprised at the nature of the interrogatory.
“Perhaps you would wish it altered in some way?” rejoined the lady.
“Non—mille remercimens!” said I—“you are very good to be so interested in my accommodation.”
“Those curtains might be better arranged—that sofa replaced with a more elegant one,” continued my new superintendant.
“Really,” said I, “I am too, too much flattered. Perhaps you would like to have my rooms altogether; if so, make at least no scruple of saying it.”
“Oh, no,” replied the lady, “I have no objection to your staying here.”