"I won't hear a word more!"
"Tra-la-la-la! It happens to have been Oscar. Turn it the other way—and Nugent might have been the man.
"Madame Pratolungo, I am not accustomed to be insulted! I have no more to say to you."
With that dignified reply, and with the loveliest color in her face that you ever saw in your life, my darling Lucilla turned her pretty back on me, and set off for Browndown by herself.
Ah, my rash tongue! Ah, my nasty foreign temper! Why did I let her irritate me? I, the elder of the two—why did I not set her an example of self-control? Who can tell? When does a woman know why she does anything? Did Eve know—when Mr. Serpent offered her the apple—why she ate it? not she!
What was to be done now? Two things were to be done. First thing:—To cool myself down. Second thing:—To follow Lucilla, and kiss and make it up.
Either I took some time to cool—or, in the irritation of the moment, Lucilla walked faster than usual. She had got to Browndown before I could overtake her. On opening the house-door, I heard them talking. It would hardly do to disturb them—especially now I was in disgrace. While I was hesitating, and wondering what my next proceeding had better be, my eye was attracted by a letter lying on the hall-table. I looked (one is always inquisitive in those idle moments when one doesn't know what to do)—I looked at the address. The letter was directed to Nugent; and the post-mark was Liverpool.
I drew the inevitable conclusion. The German oculist was in England!