“I think you have grown almost as cold yourself, little sister, and as calculating.”
“To be sure I have,” I made answer; “and to punish me, Monsieur Gironac swears that I shall die a sour old maid.”
“And what do you say?”
“An old maid very likely; but not a sour one, at all events. But, hark! there is a carriage at the door—let me see who it is.”
And I jumped up, and running to the window, saw the Selwyn liveries, and Lionel, en cavalier, beside the carriage-window.
In a moment, the steps were let down; and Caroline speedily made her appearance, commissioned, as she said, by her mother-in-law, to take immediate possession both of myself and Auguste, and to bring us down straightway to Kew. Her husband, she said, would certainly have called on Monsieur de Chatenoeuf, and the Judge also, but that the courts being all in session, they were both so completely occupied, that, except after dinner, they had not an hour of the twenty-four disengaged.
She was commanded, moreover, she added, to invite Monsieur and Madame Gironac to dine at Kew on the following day. Me, moreover, and Auguste she was to carry down forthwith in the carriage.
“So now,” she said, “get you gone, Valerie, and pack up as quickly as possible all that you require to make yourself beautiful for a week, at least.”
“And what do you say to all this, messieurs?” said I, laughingly, to my brother and Lionel; “for there is much more necessity to consult you lords of the creation, as you call yourselves, who are in reality vainer by half, and care five times as much about your toilettes as we much calumniated women—what do you say about this summary packing up and taking flight—can it be accomplished?”
“It is accomplished,” replied Lionel; “in so far at least that I have promised on my own part, and for Monsieur Auguste de Chatenoeuf in the bargain, to overlook the preparation of his kit as well as my own, and to bring them down in a cabriolet, while you and your brother are rolling smoothly along in the Judge’s venerable coach.”