“Gracious heavens, 'tis Winterset!” exclaimed Lady Rellerton.
“Turned highwayman and cut-throat,” cried Lady Mary.
“No, no,” laughed M. Beaucaire, somewhat unsteadily, as he stood, swaying a little, with one hand on the coach-door, the other pressed hard on his side, “he only oversee'; he is jus' a little bashful, sometime'. He is a great man, but he don' want all the glory!”
“Barber,” replied the Duke, “I must tell you that I gladly descend to bandy words with you; your monstrous impudence is a claim to rank I cannot ignore. But a lackey who has himself followed by six other lackeys—”
“Ha, ha! Has not M. le Duc been busy all this evening to justify me? And I think mine mus' be the bes' six. Ha, ha! You think?”
“M. de Chateaurien,” said Lady Mary, “we are waiting for you.”
“Pardon,” he replied. “He has something to say; maybe it is bes' if you hear it now.”
“I wish to hear nothing from him—ever!”
“My faith, madam,” cried the Duke, “this saucy fellow has paid you the last insult! He is so sure of you he does not fear you will believe the truth. When all is told, if you do not agree he deserved the lashing we planned to—”
“I'll hear no more!”