“I find, Count, I find that Lord Tulliwuddle, under pretext of paying my Eleanor a compliment, has provided an entertainment—a musical and athletic entertainment—for another woman!”
The Count sprang to his feet.
“Impossible!” he cried.
“It is true!”
“Name her!”
“She answers, sir, to the plebeian cognomen of Gallosh.”
“A nobody!” sneered Ri.
“In trade!” added his father scornfully.
Had the occasion been more propitious, the Count could scarcely have refrained from commenting upon this remarkably republican criticism; but, as it was, he deemed it more advisable to hunt with the hounds.
“That canaille!” he shouted. “Ha, ha! Lord Tulliwuddle would never so far demean himself!”