"He's too heavy for you!"
"He will crush your pelisse!"
She shrugged as these objections were uttered, and relinquished the child. Colonel Audley tossed him up on to his shoulder, and the whole party was about to walk in the direction of the pavilion when Lavisse, who had been watching from a little distance, came forward, and clicked his heels together in one of his flourishing salutes.
Lady Worth bowed with distant civility; Barbara looked as though she did not care to be discovered in such a situation; only the Colonel said with easy good humour: "Hallo! You know my sister, I believe. And Miss Devenish - Sir Peregrine Taverner?"
"Ah, I have not previously had the honour! Mademoiselle! Monsieur!" Two bows were executed; the Count looked slyly towards Barbara, and waved a hand to include the whole group. "You must permit me to compliment you upon the pretty tableau you make; I am perhaps de trop, but shall beg leave to join the party."
"By all means," said the Colonel. "We are taking my nephew to see the swans."
"You cannot want to carry him, Charles," said Judith in a low voice.
"Fiddle!" he replied. "Why should I not want to carry him?"
She thought that the picture he made with the child on his shoulder was too domestic to be romantic, but could scarcely say so. He set off towards the pavilion with Miss Devenish beside him; Barbara imperiously demanded Sir Peregrine's arm; and as the path was not broad enough to allow of four persons walking abreast, Judith was left to bring up the rear with Lavisse.
This arrangement was accepted by the Count with all the outward complaisance of good manners. Though his eyes might follow Barbara, his tongue uttered every civil inanity required of him. He was ready to discuss the political situation, the weather, or mutual acquaintances, and, in fact, touched upon all these topics with the easy address of a fashionable man.