My uncle’s curiosity was piqued. The pompous and magnificent introduction had led him to expect something wonderful in the story to which it served as a kind of avenue. He had no idea of being cheated out of it by a sudden fit of unreasonable squeamishness. Besides, being a traveller, in quest of information, considered it his duty to inquire into every thing.
The Marquis, however, evaded every question.
“Well,” said my uncle, a little petulantly, “whatever you may think of it, I saw that lady last night.”
The Marquis stepped back and gazed at him with surprise.
“She paid me a visit in my bed-chamber.”
The Marquis pulled out his snuff-box with a shrug and a smile; taking it no doubt for an awkward piece of English pleasantry, which politeness required him to be charmed with. My uncle went on gravely, however, and related the whole circumstance. The Marquis heard him through with profound attention, holding his snuff-box unopened in his hand. When the story was finished he tapped on the lid of his box deliberately; took a long sonorous pinch of snuff—
“Bah!” said the Marquis, and walked toward the other end of the gallery.—
Here the narrator paused. The company waited for some time for him to resume his narrative; but he continued silent.
“Well,” said the inquisitive gentleman, “and what did your uncle say then?”