François sat back on his heels and eyed Philip's legs adoringly.
"But of an excellence, m'sieur! So perfect a calf, m'sieur! So vairy fine a laig," he explained in English.
Philip tried to squint down at them, and was rewarded by an impatient exclamation from the gentleman who was wrestling with his cravat.
"Tais—toi, imbécile! 'Ow is it zat I shall arrange your cravat if you tweest and turn like zis? Lift your chin, Philippe!"
"Mais, monsieur, je—je—cela me donne—mal au cou."
"Il faut souffrir pour être bel," replied the Marquis severely.
"So it seems," said Philip irritably. "Tom, for God's sake, have done!"
His uncle chuckled.
"I've finished, never fear. Jean, that is wonderful!"
Le Marquis de Château-Banvau stepped back to view his handiwork.