‘Just so, Mr. Nickleby,’ replied Madame Mantalini, surveying Kate from head to foot, and back again. ‘Can you speak French, child?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ replied Kate, not daring to look up; for she felt that the eyes of the odious man in the dressing-gown were directed towards her.
‘Like a demd native?’ asked the husband.
Miss Nickleby offered no reply to this inquiry, but turned her back upon the questioner, as if addressing herself to make answer to what his wife might demand.
‘We keep twenty young women constantly employed in the establishment,’ said Madame.
‘Indeed, ma’am!’ replied Kate, timidly.
‘Yes; and some of ‘em demd handsome, too,’ said the master.
‘Mantalini!’ exclaimed his wife, in an awful voice.
‘My senses’ idol!’ said Mantalini.
‘Do you wish to break my heart?’