Grâces au Ciel for the merry brave! It was like endeavouring to read inscriptions in the Catacombs to interpret his speech; but one phrase he had trippingly, and that in itself was a complete index to his character—
“Je ne me mouche pas du pied”—I know better than to blow my nose with my feet.
And now, if for nothing else, I loved him for his boyish, shy, but most considerate attitude towards Carinne.
* * * * * * *
And thus was our escape accomplished. Winged with our passports, and cheered to the finish by the assurance of this gay and breezy islander, we came to the coast on a memorable afternoon, and bade adieu for ever to the family despotism of Fraternity.
* * * * * * *
“Tell me, ma belle épousée—for five days (the guests, the property, the protégés—what thou wilt—of this Sir Comely, this excellent Philippe le Bel) we have shut our eyes, here in this immeasurable London, to our necessitous condition and the prospect that faces us. Carinne, mon enfant, it is right now to discuss the means by which we are to live.”
“I have thought of it, little Thibaut. I will paint portraits.”
I started.
“Oh!” I cried, “I am very hungry! Let us signalise this last consumption of the poor Crépin’s purse by a feast of elegance. Be assured his ghost will call the grace.”