“Not I, were you to pay me,” says he. “’Tis that outlandish and uncommon.  But for sure he is some great foreign grandee.”

He could tell us no more, so we stood there all together, wondering, till presently the door opens, and a tall, lean gentleman enters, with a high front, very finely dressed in linen stockings, a long-waisted coat, and embroidered waistcoat, and rich lace at his cuffs and throat.  He wore no peruke, but his own hair, cut quite close to his head, with a pointed beard and a pair of long moustachios twisting up almost to his ears; but his appearance was the more striking by reason of his beard and moustachios being quite black, while the hair on his head was white as silver.  He had dark brows also, that overhung very rich black eyes; his nose was long and hooked, and his skin, which was of a very dark complexion, was closely lined with wrinkles about the eyes, while a deep furrow lay betwixt his brows.  He carried his head very high, and was majestic and gracious in all his movements, not one of which (as it seemed to me) was made but of forethought and purpose.  I should say his age was about sixty, though his step and carriage were of a younger man.  To my eyes he appeared a very handsome and a pleasing, amiable gentleman.  But, Lord, what can you conclude of a man at a single glance, when every line in his face (of which he had a score and more) has each its history of varying passions, known only to himself, and secret phases of his life!

He saluted us with a most noble bow, and dismissed the drawer with a word in an undertone.  Then turning again to us, he said:  “I had the pleasure of seeing you act last night, and dance,” he adds with a slight inclination of his head to Moll.  “Naturally, I wish to be better acquainted with you.  Will it please you to dine with me?”

I could not have been more dumbfounded had an angel asked me to step into heaven; but Dawson was quick enough to say something.

“That will we,” cries he, “and God bless your worship for taking pity on us, for I doubt not you have heard of our troubles.”

The other bowed his head and set a chair at the end of the table for Moll, which she took with a pretty curtsey, but saying never a word, for glee did seem to choke us all.  And being seated, she cast her eyes on the bread hungrily, as if she would fain begin at once, but she had the good manners to restrain herself.  Then his worship (as we called him), having shown us the chairs on either side, seated himself last of all, at the head of the table, facing our Moll, whom whenever he might without discourtesy, he regarded with most scrutinising glances from first to last.  Then the door flinging open, two drawers brought in those same fat pullets we had seen browning before the fire, and also the pasty, with abundance of other good cheer, at which Moll, with a little cry of delight, whispers to me: 

“’Tis like a dream.  Do speak to me, Kit, or I must think ’twill all fade away presently and leave us in the snow.”