As Josephine soliloquized, she saw Ralph Rackstraw advancing towards her with an undulating swan-like motion that teemed with unspeakable grace.
“Ralph Rackstraw!” she exclaimed, withdrawing from her pocket the false nose which she always put on when she thought she was going to be too much admired.
“Nay, lady,” said he, “put away yon pasteboard mockery. The matchless beauty of the real one is so deeply graven in my memory that I can see it even through that hollow absurdity.”
“In that case,” said she, “it is of course useless to wear it, for it is uncomfortable wear on a warm day.” And she returned it to her pocket.
“Lady,” said Ralph, “I have long wished to meet you alone.”
“That’s nonsense,” she replied, “you can’t be alone if I am here, you know.”
“An unworthy quibble,” said he. “You know perfectly well what I mean. It is unladylike to sneer at a poor sailor-man because his education has been neglected.”
“It is true,” she replied. “I beg your pardon.”
“Granted,” said he, with the ready urbanity of one of Nature’s noblemen.
Poor Josephine was much touched by this generous and freely accorded forgiveness, and the affection that she had long entertained for him struggled with her sense that it would never do to unite herself with a humble and illiterate sailor. Moreover, she had promised her papa that no consideration should induce her to let Ralph Rackstraw know her real sentiments towards him, so she drew a “Diabolo”[7] from her pocket and pretended to be wholly absorbed in the game. She usually played it with great skill, throwing the Diabolo as high as the mast head and catching it on the string with her eyes shut; but so great was her agitation that she missed it every time, to the serious damage of her renowned nose.