“Has his Lordship any orders to give me about the DUNCAN?” asked John Mangles.
“After breakfast, John,” replied Glenarvan, “we’ll discuss the program of our new expedition en famille.”
M. Olbinett’s breakfast seemed quite a FETE to the hungry guests. It was pronounced excellent, and even superior to the festivities of the Pampas. Paganel was helped twice to each dish, through “absence of mind,” he said.
This unlucky word reminded Lady Helena of the amiable Frenchman’s propensity, and made her ask if he had ever fallen into his old habits while they were away. The Major and Glenarvan exchanged smiling glances, and Paganel burst out laughing, and protested on his honor that he would never be caught tripping again once more during the whole voyage. After this prelude, he gave an amusing recital of his disastrous mistake in learning Spanish, and his profound study of Camoens. “After all,” he added, “it’s an ill wind that blows nobody good, and I don’t regret the mistake.”
“Why not, my worthy friend?” asked the Major.
“Because I not only know Spanish, but Portuguese. I can speak two languages instead of one.”
“Upon my word, I never thought of that,” said McNabbs. “My compliments, Paganel—my sincere compliments.”
But Paganel was too busily engaged with his knife and fork to lose a single mouthful, though he did his best to eat and talk at the same time. He was so much taken up with his plate, however, that one little fact quite escaped his observation, though Glenarvan noticed it at once. This was, that John Mangles had grown particularly attentive to Mary Grant. A significant glance from Lady Helena told him, moreover, how affairs stood, and inspired him with affectionate sympathy for the young lovers; but nothing of this was apparent in his manner to John, for his next question was what sort of a voyage he had made.
“We could not have had a better; but I must apprise your Lordship that I did not go through the Straits of Magellan again.”
“What! you doubled Cape Horn, and I was not there!” exclaimed Paganel.