“Not at all, not at all,” was the brisk reply, for Beaupeep did not go in for, or revere, the all-to-pieces style, but rather made it a theme for playful jesting; “when I got your invite, I just scribbled off a line to Palmerston to say I’d dine with him to-morrow instead of to-day.”
Lord Alfred quietly raised his eyebrows, while, nothing abashed, Beaupeep continued—
“It’s very jolly to be on those terms with a man like ‘Pam.,’ and I consider it quite sufficient recompense for my unwearying devotion to my public duties.”
“It really won’t do with me, my dear Jack,” interrupted Lord Alfred, in a tone of affectionate remonstrance; “reflect how long we’ve known each other!”
“By the way,” recommenced Jack, ignoring the interruptional rebuke, “talking of ‘Pam.’ puts me in mind of the Foreign Office, which, not unnaturally, leads to the inquiry of who may be the illustrious ‘Mossoo’ who is to make our fourth to-day?”
“Monsieur Guillemard! oh, he is a very gentlemanly and intelligent Frenchman, and a particular friend of Horace D’Almayne’s.”
“But what is he?” continued Beaupeep, pertinaciously; “is he a noble political exile, or a perruquier from the Palais Royal, who can’t meet his liabilities? does he gain a frugal living by imparting a knowledge of his native tongue in six lessons, at half-a-crown each? or——”
“Hush! here he is,” interrupted Lord Alfred, as a smart rat-tat-tat at the house-door announced an arrival; “he has something to do with the funds, and the financial interests, and the Rothschilds, and all that mysterious pounds, shillings, and pence business, in regard to which I have, I am afraid, no clearly defined ideas.”
“Except to spend ’em first, and make your governor shell-out afterwards, you lucky beggar you!” was the plainly audible aside, as the servant announced Monsieur Guillemard and Mr. D’Almayne.
After the ceremony of introducing the volatile Jack to the new comers had been performed, that individual immediately attached himself, and devoted his conversation to Monsieur Guillemard, whom he persisted in addressing as “Mossoo le Comte,” and whom he seemed to imagine just caught in some very foreign country indeed, and ignorant of the simplest English manners and customs; a delusion to which that gentleman’s limited acquaintance with Bindley Murray’s, or, indeed, any other British grammar, lent some slight colouring.