In a few minutes the messenger returned and said—
“Mr. De Famille’s compliments to Mr. Potiphar. Mr. De Famille and his family have retired for the night, but upon arriving in the morning he will explain everything to Mr. Potiphar’s satisfaction.
“Jolly!” whispered Mr. Boosey, rubbing his hands, to Mr. Firkin, on whose arm I was leaning.
“Are you fond of the Italian opera, Mr. Potiphar?” inquired Kurz Pacha, blandly, Mrs. P. sat down upon a settee and looked at nothing.
“O Patience! do verify the quotation and smile,” said the Ambassador to her.
“It’s a mean swindle,” said Mr. Potiphar. “I’ll have satisfaction. I’ll go break open the door,” and he started.
“My dear, don’t be in a passion,” said Mrs. Potiphar, “and don’t be a fool. Remember that the De Familles are not people to be insulted. It won’t do to quarrel with the De Familles.”
“Splendid!” ejaculated Kurz Pacha.
“I’ve no doubt he’ll explain it all in the morning,” continued Mrs. Potiphar, “there’s some mistake; why not be cool about it? Besides, Mr. De Famille is an elderly gentleman and requires his rest. I do think you’re positively unchristian, Mr. Potiphar. The idea of insulting the De Familles!”
And Mrs. Potiphar patted her little feet upon the floor in front of the ladies’ cabin, where we were all collected.