and then to come to Paris—­of all places—­to do it!  What a curious thing is sympathy!  He met her in the tidal train, and they were taken ill together on board the steamboat; that’s how it came about.  Poor old soul!  He deserves a better fate. [Takes her broom and leans on it reflectively.] Heigh-ho!  His honest English face was pleasant to look upon in this here outlandish spot; and none has been so kind to me since my poor missis died and left me under this roof, without money enough to pay my passage back to England.  I was glad enough to take service here; for why should I go back to a country where there is not a soul to welcome me?  And yet I should like to see dear old England again, too. [Tumult without.  Mr. Nokes is seen rushing madly up the court-yard.  Tumult in the passage; French and English voices at high pitch.  Nokes without: Idiots!  Frog-eaters!  What is it I want?  Nothing! nothing but to see France sunk in the sea!]

     Enter NOKES (dishevelled and purple with passion, with an open
     letter in his hand; bangs the door behind him).

Susan. What is the matter, sir?

Nokes. Everything is the matter.  You see this lily-white waistcoat; you see these matrimonial does [points to his trousers], these polished-leather boots, which are at this moment pinching me most confoundedly, though I don’t feel it, because I’m in such a passion:  well, they have been put on for nothing.  I’ve been made a fool of by the Montmorenci.  But if there’s justice in heaven,—­that is, in Paris,—­if there’s law in France, and blighted hopes are compensated in this country as they are at home, the hussy shall smart for it.  Directly I’m married myself, I’ll bring an action against her for breach of promise.

Susan. Married yourself, sir?

Nokes. Of course I’m going to be married,—­at once, immediately,—­within the week.  There’s only a week left to the end of the year.  Do you suppose—­does my nephew Charles suppose—­no, for he knows me better—­that I am not going to keep my word? that because the Montmorenci has played me false at the eleventh hour I am going to remain a bachelor for seven days longer?  Never, Susan, never! [Walks hastily up and down the room.]

Susan. Lor, sir, do pray be a little quiet, I am sure if any young woman was to see you in this state she must be uncommonly courageous to take charge of such a husband.  Do, pray, tell me what has happened.

Nokes. Nothing has happened.  That’s what I complain of.  Just as I drove up to the Legation this letter was handed to me.  It is from the brother of the Montmorenci, and is supposed to be written in the English tongue.  He regrets that matters between Mademoiselle his sister and myself have been advanced with such precipitation.

Susan. Well, sir, you were rather in a hurry about it, I must say.

Nokes. Hurry!  I was in nothing of the sort.  We were in the same boat together for hours.  We suffered agonies in company.  And, besides, I had only three weeks at farthest to waste in making love to anybody.  And now I’ve only one week,—­all because this woman did not know her own mind.