This was in response to a few suggestive throat-clearings from Mademoiselle Gros. "Time for you to go into Caudebec for the shopping, is it? Why, it is barely nine o'clock: don't worry me so, you have plenty of time. No, no" (looking at her watch), "It is gone half-past, you must hurry off at once. Why couldn't you remind me sooner? Here is the list—don't lose it—and here are fifty francs—No, you will need sixty. And don't go forgetting again to call at Lebrun's and pay him his account. I will write about the other matter, so say nothing. No, you had better just say—no, after all, say nothing. Here are the three hundred francs; three hundred francs—it is terrible."
"Now," as the dwarf-like creature slunk away, "where was I, dear Mademoiselle? Oh yes: my father was in the Navy, and fought with Villeneuve at Trafalgar, while my husband and his relatives were all in the Army; his father, the famous Count de Florian—the girls' grandfather—was at Waterloo, serving as a general under the great Emperor himself. Trafalgar, Waterloo: what more would you have? But then English is so useful, it is spoken everywhere: there is England with all her colonies, and the Americans speak English too, don't they? The Court Ladies all talk it, and our best families. So when the girls were quite tiny, I got them an English governess, a Miss Jayne; sensible, but very harsh, and not quite a lady. When they were older, I looked about for a young English lady to perfect them. Then our good English friend, Lord Tawborough, told me of a young cousin of his, who would suit perfectly. 'Protestant?' I asked him, for after all religion is important, is it not? 'Yes,' he replied, 'as you know nearly all of us are; and a devout one too. But of course she would never dream of trying to influence your daughters!' You wouldn't, Mademoiselle, would you?"
"Oh, no! Madame," I replied, breaking a lifetime's vows.
"Naturally not. You are a good Protestant, we are good Catholics. But there is tolerance, is there not?"
"Yes," huskily. The new philosophy affected my voice.
"I knew you would think like that. The best way is for you never to refer to religion at all, don't you agree?"
"Yes, Madame," denying for the third time. And immediately in the ears of my spirits, the cock crew. I flushed. Madame stared, wondered, and said nothing.
I sought to turn the subject. "How did you first meet Lord Tawborough?" I enquired. "I should be much interested to hear."
"Has he never told you? Well, he was introduced to us by one of my dear husband's friends, another Englishman, a cousin of his; a much older man, whom my husband knew through friends of the family in Paris. So distinguished too, with a head of perfectly white hair, and so well-groomed; the perfect type of English gentleman. He lived in France. I think he didn't get on very well with Lord Tawborough, had quarrelled with the latter's father or something like that. The last time I saw Lord Tawborough, he hadn't seen him for years; I think he still lives somewhere or other in France. So distinguished, though pious with it: a Protestant, of course, but a perfect gentleman."