Philip dropped his snuff-box.
"Que diable—?" he began, and checked himself. "Mind your own business, François!"
"Ah, pardon, m'sieur!" replied the irrepressible François. "I but thought that m'sieur had the desire to wed, that he should return to England so hurriedly!"
"Hold your tongue!" said Philip sharply. "Understand me, François, I'll have no meddling bavardage about me either to my face or below stairs! C'est entendu?"
"But yes, m'sieur," said François, abashed. "It is that my tongue runs away with me."
"You'd best keep a guard over it," answered Philip curtly.
"Yes, m'sieur!" Meekly he handed Philip his cane and handkerchief. Then, as his master still frowned, "M'sieur is still enraged?" he ventured.
Philip glanced down at him. At the sight of François' anxious, naïve expression, the frown faded, and he laughed.
"You are quite ridiculous," he said.
François broke into responsive smiles at once.