This comprehensive question, as Sir Clement would have called it, though it made him smile, also made him hesitate; however, his answer was expressive of his approbation.
“I thought you would like it, Sir, because you look so like a gentleman. As to the Captain, and as to that other gentleman, why they may very well not like what they don’t know: for I suppose, Sir, you was never abroad?”
“Only three years, Ma’am,” answered Sir Clement, drily.
“Well, that’s very surprising! I should never have thought it: however, I dare say you only kept company with the English.”
“Why, pray, who should he keep company with?” cried the Captain: “what I suppose you’d have him ashamed of his own nation, like some other people not a thousand miles off, on purpose to make his own nation ashamed of him?”
“I’m sure it would be a very good thing if you’d go abroad yourself.”
“How will you make out that, hey, Madam? come, please to tell me, where would be the good of that?”
“Where! why a great deal. They’d make quite another person of you.”
“What, I suppose you’d have me to learn to cut capers?-and dress like a monkey?-and palaver in French gibberish?-hey, would you?-And powder, and daub, and make myself up, like some other folks?”
“I would have you learn to be more politer, Sir, and not to talk to ladies in such a rude, old-fashion way as this. You, Sir, as have been in Paris,” again addressing herself to Lord Orville, “can tell this English gentleman how he’d be despised, if he was to talk in such an ungenteel manner as this before any foreigners. Why, there isn’t a hairdresser, nor a shoemaker, nor nobody, that wouldn’t blush to be in your company.”