Happily the newspapers were quiet.  I hoped consequently to find peace at Riversley; but there the rumours of the Grand Parade were fabulous, thanks to Captain Bulsted and Julia, among others.  These two again provoked an outbreak of rage from the squire, and I, after hearing them, was almost disposed to side with him; they suggested an inexplicable magnificence, and created an image of a man portentously endowed with the capacity to throw dust in the eyes.  No description of the Balls could have furnished me with such an insight of their brilliancy as the consuming ardour they awakened in the captain and his wife.  He reviewed them:  ‘Princely entertainments!  Arabian Nights!’

She built them up piecemeal:  ’The company! the dresses! the band! the supper!’ The host was a personage supernatural.  ’Aladdin’s magician, if you like,’ said Julia, ’only-good!  A perfect gentleman! and I’ll say again, confound his enemies.’  She presumed, as she was aware she might do, upon the squire’s prepossession in her favour, without reckoning that I was always the victim.

‘Heard o’ that new story ‘bout a Dauphin?’ he asked.

‘A Dauphin?’ quoth Captain Bulsted.  ‘I don’t know the fish.’

’You’ve been in a pretty kettle of ’em lately, William.  I heard of it yesterday on the Bench.  Lord Shale, our new Lord-Lieutenant, brought it down.  A trick they played the fellow ’bout a Dauphin.  Serve him right.  You heard anything ‘bout it, Harry?’

I had not.

’But I tell ye there is a Dauphin mixed up with him.  A Dauphin and Mr. Ik Dine!’

‘Mr. Ik Dine!’ exclaimed the captain, perplexed.

’Ay, that’s German lingo, William, and you ought to know it if you’re a loyal sailor—­means “I serve."’

‘Mr. Beltham,’ said the captain, seriously, ’I give you my word of honour as a man and a British officer, I don’t understand one syllable of what you’re saying; but if it means any insinuation against the gentleman who condescends to extend his hospitalities to my wife and me, I must, with regret, quit the place where I have had the misfortune to hear it.’

‘You stop where you are, William,’ the squire motioned to him.  ’Gad, I shall have to padlock my mouth, or I shan’t have a friend left soon . . . confounded fellow. . .  I tell you they call him Mr. Ik Dine in town.  Ik Dine and a Dauphin!  They made a regular clown and pantaloon o’ the pair, I’m told.  Couple o’ pretenders to Thrones invited to dine together and talk over their chances and show their private marks.  Oho! by-and-by, William!  You and I!  Never a man made such a fool of in his life!’

The ladies retired.  The squire continued, in a furious whisper: