"Yes, (hem!) at least I believe he did, but I don't know—we were all so engaged, (hem!) in assisting Tonnerre—the last I saw of him was his horse going through the Park Gate like a shot, for he can't ride."
"Baskerville," interrupted Lord Glenmore, who had entered the box, and, while talking with Lady Tilney, had overheard the latter part of this veracious history,—"Baskerville, you must pardon me if I correct your statement a little. You may have heard the circumstances only related, I saw them—and if ever a man deserved having his neck broke, and losing a favourite horse, it was Tonnerre. I never witnessed any thing like the manner in which he rode, not to Lady Hamlet Vernon's carriage, but at D'Esterre, and if the latter had not been the excellent horseman he is, I think there might have been more serious results accruing to both than actually happened. However, Tonnerre and his horse are quite well, for I met both to-day." Lord Baskerville had a mode of dropping the corners of his mouth, raising his chin, and turning up his eyes, whenever he wished to shew signs of contempt; but too discreet to offend a person of Lord Glenmore's calibre, he managed to suppress them in some measure; and having heard out what Lord Glenmore had to say, turned without answering him to the Comtesse Leinsengen.
"Do not talk more about dat man, I pray you, I am tired to death of his name," said the latter; "but tell me, Milor, vill you and Miladi Baskerville meet me to-morrow at dinner? Miladi Tilney and myself are going to do Sir William dere de honour to dine vid him, and vid our own party."
Lord Baskerville looked amazed, and before he could recover his surprise, Sir William himself seemingly confirmed the strange announcement, by facing round and assuring Baskerville, as he called him, on the strength of many a good dinner before, that "he should be delighted to see him; and Lady Baskerville too, I hope will confer the same honour upon me as these ladies." Lord Baskerville, ere he answered, directed a look of inquiry to the Comtesse Leinsengen, to ascertain if the matter were really serious.—"Oh, you must come vid me," said the Comtesse, "I positively vill have no excuse."
"I am ever ready to obey your commands, Comtesse, you know, and—"
"I am delighted to hear you say so," cried Sir William. (Lord Baskerville drew up.) "And Lady Baskerville?" continued the former.
"Hem! I cannot answer for Lady Baskerville, Sir William—but (hem! hem!) I will certainly inform her of the invitation, and (hem!) should she have no other engagement, (hem!) doubtless she will be most happy, and (hem!) will wait upon you; (hem!) but dear me the Opera is ended," looking at his watch, and turning to Lady Tilney. "Oh those tiresome bishops—really I wish people would not meddle with what (hem!) they have nothing to do,—we are always now deprived of half our ballet on the Saturdays." (hem!)
"C'est vraiment ridicule," murmured the Comtesse Leinsengen: "dere is no country in de world where dis sort of foolish ting takes place but in England."
"It is rather an infringement upon our liberties, I will allow," observed Lady Tilney, "to turn us out of our Opera boxes at a particular hour."
"Liberty—liberty—dat liberty of the subject is all a farce, chere Miladi; it is all a make believe, as I often have de honour of telling you. Lord Baskerville, vill you be so obliging—my schall."