“Having had it constantly under my eyes these twenty years,” rejoined the gentleman.

“Oh, aunt!  Oh, Mr. Bazalgette!” cried Lucy, rising and clasping her hands; if you really love me, never let me be the cause of a misunderstanding, or an angry word between those I esteem; it would make me too miserable; and, dear Mr. Bazalgette, you must let people be happy in their own way, or you will be sure to make them unhappy.  My aunt and I understand one another better than you do.”

“She understands you, my poor girl.”

“Not so well as I do her.  But she knows I hate to be idle, and love to do these bagatelles for her.  It is my doing from the first, not hers; she did not even know I could do it till I produced two dresses for the Hunts’ ball.  So, you see—­”

“That is another matter; all ladies play at work.  But you are in for three months’ hard labor. Look at that heap of vanity.  She is making a lady’s-maid of you.  It is unjust.  It is selfish.  It is improper.  It is not for my credit, of which I am more jealous than coquettes are of theirs; besides, Lucy, you must not think, because I don’t make a parade as she does, that I am not fond of you.  I have a great deal more real affection for you than she has, and so you will find if we are ever put to the test.”

At this last absurdity Mrs. Bazalgette burst out laughing.  But “la rusee sans le savoir” turned toward the speaker, and saw that he spoke with a certain emotion which was not ordinary in him.  She instantly went to him with both hands gracefully extended.  “I do think you have an affection for me.  If you really have, show it me some other way, and not by making me unhappy.”

“Well, then, I will, Lucy.  Look here; if Solomon was such a fool as to argue with one of you young geese you would shut his mouth in a minute.  There, I am going; but you will always be the slave of one selfish person or other; you were born for it.”

Thus impotently growling, the merchant prince retired from the field, escorted with amenity by the courtier.  In the passage she suddenly dropped forward like a cypress-tree, and gave him her forehead to kiss.  He kissed it with some little warmth, and confided to her, in friendly accents, that she was a fool, and off he went, grumbling inarticulately, to his foreign loans and things.

The courtier returned to smooth her aunt in turn, but that lady stopped her with a lofty gesture.

“My plan is to look on these monstrosities as horrid dreams, and go on as if nothing had happened.”

Happy philosophy.

Lucy acquiesced with a smile, and in an instant both immortal souls plunged and disappeared in silk, satin, feathers and point lace.