“I hope he will be properly attentive,” interrupted my mother. “Dear Jack, remind me to-morrow to write to Lady Mary.”
“Don't mistake the country you are going to,” continued my father; “you will find many things very different from what you are leaving; and, above all, be not over ready to resent, as an injury, what may merely be intended as a joke: your brother officers will always guide you on these points.”
“And above all things,” said my mother, with great earnestness, “do not adopt that odious fashion of wearing their hair. I've seen members of both Houses, and particularly that little man they talk so much of, Mr. Grattan, I believe they call him——”
“Make your mind perfectly easy on that head, my lady,” said my father, dryly, “your son is not particularly likely to resemble Henry Grattan.”
My cousin Julia alone seemed to relish the tone of sarcasm he spoke in, for she actually bestowed on him a look of almost grateful acknowledgment.
“The carriage, my lady,” said the servant. And at the same moment my mother, possibly not sorry to cut short the discussion, rose from her chair.
“Do you intend to look in at the Duchess's, General?”
“For half an hour,” replied my father; “after that I have my letters to write. Jack, you know, leaves us to-morrow.”
“'Tis really very provoking,” said my mother, turning at the same time a look towards the Count.
“A vos ordres, Madame,” said he, bowing with an air of most deferential politeness, while he presented his arm for her acceptance.