"Sent me money!" exclaimed Madame France scornfully. Then suddenly changing her manner to a tone of polite sarcasm she said, "Pardon, Monsieur! I had forgotten, yes, you sent me money. It must have been a great sacrifice for you to part with what you love so well. The shopkeeper does not like to drain his till, even for a friend in need. I beg Monsieur's pardon a thousand times. I did not too fully appreciate his kindness. I have not sufficiently thanked my mercantile neighbour. Permit me, Monsieur," she said with a profound curtsey, "to thank you for your extravagant consideration and extreme sympathy."
The Buccaneer was going to reply; but Dogvane, fearing a storm, almost dragged his master away. "But this is not as it should be, Dogvane. It is not right."
As they went away Madame France muttered something, but the only word that reached the Buccaneer was "perfidious." This was an old retort.
"This is not right, Master Dogvane!" he cried.
"Decidedly wrong, sir. The grossest piece of ingratitude I have ever experienced. Ah! we can plainly see, she has not forgiven you for remaining neutral in her last row with her burly neighbour inland. But a stale page of history is that."
"Master Dogvane, even a woman's resentment cannot last too long. There must be something else. Have you, Master Dogvane, been doing anything to put her out?"
"I can tax my memory with nothing, sir; but the other watch, who can tell what they've been up to? Softly, my master, softly. For heaven's sake come away. Say nothing to increase her anger. The least said, soonest mended. Is she not fair to look upon?" added Dogvane looking back as did Lot's wife. "What ripe lips!"
"What has that to do with it?"
"Nothing, sir, nothing; what a lovely foot! what an ankle too! what a comely leg!"
"What the devil, I say again, has that to do with it?" cried the Buccaneer.