“Well done! That’s what I call a brilliant manœuvre,” said Clide, laughing. “No, you must help them yourself; you deserve that reward after such a feat of arms, and Mlle. de la Bourbonais, who has a great admiration for heroes, will drink to your health I daresay.”
“I’ve been trying to excite her admiration by the recital of my heroic exploits at the last elections; but I’m afraid I rather scandalized her instead,” said the young man, as he poured the sparkling wine into her glass.
“Served you right,” said Lady Emily, with cousinly impertinence; “when people fish for compliments they generally catch more snakes than eels.”
“Roxham, will you reach me those sandwiches?” cried a gentleman struggling with a lady on his arm beyond arm’s length of the table. Lord Roxham immediately went to his assistance, and some one else instantly pressed into his place behind Franceline.
“We had better go now, if you have quite finished,” said Clide to Lady Emily.
Franceline made a movement to rise, but sat down again; Clide’s chair was on her dress.
“Oh! I beg your pardon. Have I done any mischief?” he exclaimed, starting up and lifting his chair; the foot had caught in the tulle and made a slight rent.
“Oh! I am so sorry. I beg your pardon a thousand times!” he said with great warmth and looking deeply distressed.
“It’s of no consequence; it will never be noticed,” she answered, gently.
“I am so sorry!” Clide repeated. Their eyes met at last; he was disarmed in an instant.