“There is noting I hate so much as your meeses,” continued Madam Gordeloup; “noting!  Your English meesses give themselves such airs.  Now in Paris, or in dear Vienna, or in St. Petersburg, they are not like that at all.  There they are nobodies—­they are nobodies; but then they will be something very soon, which is to be better.  Your English meess is so much and so grand; she never can be greater and grander.  So when she is a mamma, she lives down in the country by herself, and looks after de pills and de powders.  I don’t like that.  I don’t like that at all.  No; if my husband had put me into the country to look after de pills and de powders, he should have had them all, all—­himself, when he came to see me.”  As she said this with great energy, she opened her eyes wide, and looked full into Archie’s face.

Captain Clavering, who was sitting with his hat in his two hands between his knees, stared at the little foreigner.  He had heard before of women poisoning their husbands, but never had heard a woman advocate the system as expedient.  Nor had he often heard a woman advocate any system with the vehemence which Madam Gordeloup now displayed on this matter, and with an allusion which was so very pointed to the special position of his own sister-in-law.  Did Lady Ongar agree with her?  He felt as though he should like to know his Julia’s opinion on that matter.

“Sophie, Captain Clavering will think that you are in earnest,” said the countess, laughing.

“So I aim—­in earnest.  It is all wrong.  You boil all the water out of de pot before you put the gigot into it.  So the gigot is no good, is tough and dry, and you shut it up in an old house in the country.  Then, to make matters pretty, you talk about de fields and de daisies.  I know.  ‘Thank you,’ we should say.  ’De fields and de daisies are so nice and so good!  Suppose you go down, my love, and walk in de fields, and pick de daisies, and send them up to me by de railway!’ Yes, that is what I would say.”

Captain Clavering was now quite in the dark, and began to regard the little woman as a lunatic.  When she spoke of the pot and the gigot he vainly endeavored to follow her; and now that she had got among the daisies he was more at a loss than ever.  Fruit, vegetables, and cut flowers came up, he knew, to London regularly from Clavering, when the family was in town—­but no daisies.  In France it must, he supposed, be different.  He was aware, however, of his ignorance, and said nothing.

“No one ever did try to shut you up, Sophie!”

“No, indeed; M. Gordeloup knew better.  What would he do if I were shut up?  And no one will ever shut you up, my dear.  If I were you, I would give no one a chance.”

“Don’t say that,” said the captain, almost passionately; “don’t say that.”

“Ha, ha! but I do say it.  Why should a woman who has got everything marry again?  If she wants de fields and de daisies she has got them of her own—­yes, of her own.  If she wants de town, she has got that, too.  Jewels—­she can go and buy them.  Coaches—­there they are.  Parties—­one, two, three, every night, as many as she please.  Gentlemen, who will be her humble slaves; such a plenty—­all London.  Or, if she want to be alone, no one can come near her.  Why should she marry?  No.”