"'Tis handsome of the lady, sir, and I'm obleeged, and axes you to put my sarvices into French lingo, sir."
He bobbed again.
"What about Captain Aglionby?" asked Harry.
"Well, sir, I reckon he be madder than a March hare. Nigh to bust hisself, and hot as pepper. Would ha' slashed me, man o' peace as I be, if 'tweren't for half a dozen Dutch coofs wi' pitchforks and other articles o' warfare drawn up below, wi' the young lady at their head. Ay, she be a warrior bold, sure enough: I never seed such a piece of female manliness all my life long. 'Twas with a flashen eye and a pink rose on each pretty cheek her stood and ordered 'em out. Ay, an uncommon upstanden piece o' womankind her be, to be sure."
Harry was glad that Madame de Vaudrey's ignorance of English could not fathom this plain-spoken tribute to her daughter's charms.
"They are really gone, then?" he said.
"Why, yes, both on 'em; the long beetle chap as well. He be a next-door neighbour, it seems, and a mighty unpleasant neighbour he must be.—Thank 'ee kindly, mum," he added, as Madame de Vaudrey offered him a glass of wine, "but if 'ee don't mind, I'd rather wet my whistle with a mug of beer in the kitchen."
The lady smiled when this was interpreted.
"You English are like the Hollanders in that," she said. "Certainly. Jean, take the brave man to the kitchen and treat him well."
Sherebiah pulled his forelock and departed with alacrity.