‘My friends in England will dispel the bad weather for me, madame’; Renee smiled softly:  ’I have been studying my French-English phrase-book, that I may learn how dialogues are conducted in your country to lead to certain ceremonies when old friends meet, and without my book I am at fault.  I am longing to be embraced by you . . . if it will not be offending your rules?’

Rosamund succumbed to the seductive woman, whose gentle tooth bit through her tutored simplicity of manner and natural graciousness, administering its reproof, and eluding a retort or an excuse.

She gave the embrace.  In doing so she fell upon her conscious awkwardness for an expression of reserve that should be as good as irony for irony, though where Madame de Rouaillout’s irony lay, or whether it was irony at all, our excellent English dame could not have stated, after the feeling of indignant prudery responding to it so guiltily had subsided.

Beauchamp asked her if she had brought servants with her; and it gratified her to see that he was no actor fitted to carry a scene through in virtue’s name and vice’s mask with this actress.

She replied, ’I have brought a man and a maid-servant.  The establishment will be in town the day after tomorrow, in time for my lord’s return from the Castle.’

‘You can have them up to-morrow morning.’

‘I could,’ Rosamund admitted the possibility.  Her idolatry of him was tried on hearing him press the hospitality of the house upon Madame de Rouaillout, and observing the lady’s transparent feint of a reluctant yielding.  For the voluble Frenchwoman scarcely found a word to utter:  she protested languidly that she preferred the independence of her hotel, and fluttered a singular look at him, as if overcome by his vehement determination to have her in the house.  Undoubtedly she had a taking face and style.  His infatuation, nevertheless, appeared to Rosamund utter dementedness, considering this woman’s position, and Cecilia Halkett’s beauty and wealth, and that the house was no longer at his disposal.  He was really distracted, to judge by his forehead, or else he was over-acting his part.

The absence of a cook in the house, Rosamund remarked, must prevent her from seconding Captain Beauchamp’s invitation.

He turned on her witheringly.  ’The telegraph will do that.  You’re in London; cooks can be had by dozens.  Madame de Rouaillout is alone here; she has come to see a little of England, and you will do the honours of the house.’

‘M. le marquis is not in London?’ said Rosamund, disregarding the dumb imprecation she saw on Beauchamp’s features.

‘No, madame, my husband is not in London,’ Renee rejoined collectedly.