“It is her cousin, the wicked Marquis,” whispered a brunette to a languishing blonde.
“How she is fortunate!” sighed the blonde, gazing soulfully at Vidal.
The modish young gentleman swept a deep bow, flourishing a handkerchief strongly scented with amber. He had a mobile and somewhat mischievous countenance, and was known to every anxious parent as a desperate flirt. “ Cher Dominique, it is even I, thy so unworthy cousin. What villainy has brought you here?”
“Damn your impudence,” said his lordship cheerfully. “And what’s the meaning of all this, Bertrand?” He let fall his glass, and took the lively Vicomte’s ear between finger and thumb.
“English, you understand,” murmured a dowager to her vis-à-vis. “They are all quite sans gêne, I have heard.”
“My earrings? But it is de règle, my dear! Oh, but the very, very latest mode!” the Vicomte answered. “Let go, barbarian!”
Juliana tugged at his lordship’s sleeve. “Vidal, it is amazingly pleasant to see you again, but what in the world are you doing here? Never will you tell .me my uncle has sent you to — to be a dragon because of my dearest Frederick!”
“Lord, no!” replied Vidal. “Where is your dearest Frederick? Not here tonight?”
“No, but he is in Paris. Oh, Vidal, where can we talk? I have so much to tell you!”
The Vicomte broke in on this and said in English: “Vidal, I am with pistols quite incompetent, but you who are so much in the habit of it, will you not shoot me this abominable Frederick?”