Fergus paid him twenty francs and a sprightly little woman, quite young and very lively, came out of a small and daintily furnished lodge to greet them.
"Ah, but you are Anglais," she said, "it goes without saying. I will take you down to the château if messieurs so desire. Monsieur mon mari is ill, but it matters not—he can talk the English—ah, charmant! He has fallen ill of the accursed grippe, but I nurse him well and he will soon be restored. Come, then, my good messieurs, come for yourselves and see le Comte St. Juste. I am his wife, it goes without saying. He is old and I am young, that also goes without saying. Follow me, messieurs, you will be rewarded when you see all that I have done for the castle. It was in ruins—ah! but I had my dot, chers messieurs. I made my money by means of the chapeaux and the très chic garments for the different fêtes which abound at Arles. Ah, but I made my pile—my pile, and the Comte he worships me, and I myself am la Comtesse. Think you not it was well done, and think you I am ashamed of how I made my dot? Ah, mais non, mais non! The beautiful hats are made for the beautiful youth, the beautiful robes, très distinguées très comme il faut, are also made for the young and lovely, but see! I get my price, the true price—one hundred and fifty francs for one little chapeau, one thousand francs for a robe which might be distinguished in any part of Paris. Ah, think not of it any more. It is over. I am Madame la Comtesse and Monsieur is le Comte and I put the place—ah, into its bridal dress. See! behold! Not a weed, not an entanglement—all of the most spotless. Think what the place was! One raises the eyebrow at the thought, and behold it now! Monsieur the Comte, he is that eaten up with joie that he can scarcely contain himself. Ah, messieurs, have I not done well?"
"You have done very well," said John Mansfield.
The little French lady turned towards him and gave him a sparkling nod.
"You come from the cold Angleterre?" she enquired.
"I live in England and I love that country very dearly," said John Mansfield.
"Ah, and you, monsieur?" the black eyes fixed themselves on the eyes which were almost as black as Fergus Desmond's.
"I come from Ireland," he said. "I have come on a matter of great importance; I wish to speak to your husband, madame."
"Ah, certainement, certainement. Oh, la! la! you shall have your way. But Ireland—Ireland, have you not a name, monsieur?"
"My name is Desmond of Desmondstown," said Fergus in his slow, grave voice.