And what shall I say of the host who is churl enough to welcome you in
such a shabby coat?"
The cork went pop, their tongues went nineteen to the dozen, and the
time went so rapidly that a little clock on the chest of drawers became
a positive killjoy.
"By all the laws of dramatic effect," remarked the poet, as they
trifled with the almonds and raisins, "you will now divulge that the
fashionable lady before me is no 'Rosalie Durand,' of a hairdresser's
shop, but madame la comtesse de Thrilling Mystery. Every novel reader
would be aware that at this stage you will demand some dangerous
service of me, and that I shall forthwith risk my life and win your
love."
"Bien sur! That is how it ought to be," she agreed.
"Is it impossible?"
"That I can be a countess?"
"Well, we will waive the 'countess'; and for that matter I will not
insist on risking my life; but what about the love?"
"Without the rest," she demurred, "the situation would be too
commonplace. When I can tell you that I am a countess I will say also
that I love you; to-night I am Rosalie Durand, a friend. By the way,
now I come to think of it, I shall be all that you have seen in
London!"
"Why, I declare, so you will!" exclaimed Tricotrin. "Really this is a
nice thing! I come to England for the benefit of my education--and when
it is almost time for me to return, I find that I have spent the whole
of the day in a room.
Pages:
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301