Having coldly acknowledged the salutation she turned her back upon her visitors and pouted her pretty lips. "Master Dogvane," said the Buccaneer addressing that worthy, "there is not much cordiality here."
"It beats me altogether, sir," the captain replied, "but there is no understanding women, and, as everyone knows, Madame here is peculiarly fickle and uncertain. They all seem to go by the rule of contrary. She is an arrant coquette I'll be bound; but, Master, what a pretty foot and what a lovely leg."
"Dogvane!" cried the Buccaneer as he gazed upon the attractions alluded to, "you forget yourself." Then addressing the haughty beauty he said, "Madame, in what have I been so unfortunate as to meet with your displeasure? It is many years now since we had any cause for quarrel and all old wounds I trust are healed, and as I bear no malice, Madame, I hope you bear none. How then have I displeased you?"
"Monsieur, your memory methinks is short. Was I not set upon and beaten? Was I not hurt and bleeding? Was I not struck down until I bit the dust, and you never held out a hand to help me? Monsieur, my memory is better, I do not forget, I never shall."
"Oh! damn these violent memories!" exclaimed Dogvane aside.
"But, Madame, that is now an old old story," the Buccaneer replied. "Is it right to carry resentment so far? Is it acting up to the religion that we both profess?"
"Monsieur's reputation for piety is extremely great," said his fair neighbour, while a sneer played round her pretty mouth; she then added, "An injury, Monsieur, is never old."
"Madame!" cried the Buccaneer still wishing to appease, "you had my extreme sympathy."
"Sympathy!" cried Madame France, "sympathy! of what avail is that against battalions?"
"I dressed your wounds, I attended your sick and I sent you money, lint, and plaster."