“Send him out of the way,” whispered Mrs. Harcourt.
“Go out of the room, Herbert, my dear,” said Mad. de Rosier, who never made use of artifices upon any occasion to get rid of children—“go out of the room, Herbert, my dear: for we want to talk about something which we do not wish that you should hear.”
Herbert, though he was anxious to know what could be the matter with Favoretta, instantly withdrew, saying, “Will you call me again when you’ve done talking?”
“We can speak French,” added Mad. de Rosier, looking at Favoretta, “since we cannot trust that little girl in a room by herself; we must speak in a language which she does not understand, when we have any thing to say that we do not choose she should hear.”
“After all this preparation,” said Mrs. Harcourt, in French, “my little mouse will make you laugh; it will not surprise or frighten you, Matilda, quite so much as the mouse of last night. You must know that I have been much disturbed by certain noises.”
“More noises!” said Matilda, drawing closer, to listen.
“More noises!” said Mrs. Harcourt, laughing; “but the noises which disturbed my repose were not heard in the dead of the night, just as the clock struck twelve—the charming hour for being frightened out of one’s wits, Matilda: my noises were heard in broad daylight, about the time
‘When lap-dogs give themselves the rousing shake.‘
Was not there music and dancing here, early yesterday morning, when I had the headache, Isabella?”
“Yes, mamma,” said Isabella: “Herbert’s dulcimer-boy was here! We call him Herbert’s dulcimer-boy, because Herbert gave him two buns the other day;—the boy and his father came from gratitude, to play a tune for Herbert, and we all ran and asked Mad. de Rosier to let him in.”