When it pleased him, Sir Giles Mompesson could play the courtier, and fawn and gloze like the rest.  A consummate hypocrite, he easily assumed any part he might be called upon to enact; but the tone natural to him was one of insolent domination and bitter raillery.  He sneered at all things human and divine; and there was mockery in his laughter, as well as venom in his jests.  His manner, however, was not without a certain cold and grave dignity; and he clothed himself, like his purposes, in inscrutable reserve, on occasions requiring it.  So ominous was his presence, that many persons got out of his way, fearing to come in contact with him, or give him offence; and the broad walk at Paul’s was sometimes cleared as he took his way along it, followed by his band of tipstaves.

If this were the case with persons who had no immediate ground of apprehension from him, how much terror his sombre figure must have inspired, when presented, as it was, to Madame Bonaventure, with the aspect of a merciless creditor, armed with full power to enforce his claims, and resolved not to abate a jot of them, will be revealed to the reader in our next chapter.

CHAPTER III.

The French ordinary.

The month allowed by the notice expired, and Madame Bonaventure’s day of reckoning arrived.

No arrangement had been attempted in the interim, though abundant opportunities of doing so were afforded her, as Sir Francis Mitchell visited the Three Cranes almost daily.  She appeared to treat the matter very lightly, always putting it off when mentioned; and even towards the last seemed quite unconcerned, as if entertaining no fear of the result.  Apparently, everything went on just as usual, and no one would have supposed, from Madame Bonaventure’s manner, that she was aware of the possibility of a mine being sprung beneath her feet.  Perhaps she fancied she had countermined her opponents, and so felt secure.  Her indifference puzzled Sir Francis, who knew not whether to attribute it to insensibility or over-confidence.  He was curious to see how she would conduct herself when the crisis came; and for that purpose repaired to the tavern, about dinner-time, on the appointed day.

The hostess received him very graciously; trifled and jested with him as was her custom, and looked all blandishments and smiles to him and everybody else, as if nothing could possibly happen to disturb her serenity.  Sir Francis was more perplexed than ever.  With the levity and heedlessness of a Frenchwoman, she must have forgotten all about the claim.  What if he should venture to remind her of it?  Better not.  The application would come soon enough.  He was glad it devolved upon his partner, and not on himself, to proceed to extremities with so charming a person.  He really could not do it.  And yet all the while he chuckled internally as he thought of the terrible dilemma in which she would be speedily caught, and how completely it would place her at his mercy.  She must come to terms then.  And Sir Francis rubbed his skinny hands gleefully at the thought.  On her part, Madame Bonaventure guessed what was passing in his breast, and secretly enjoyed the idea of checkmating him.  With a captivating smile she left him to attend to her numerous guests.