There
was some talk of a family feud between him and my cousin, the Marquis
de St. Cyr. The St. Justs' are quite plebeian, and the republican
government employs many spies. I assure you there is no
mistake. . . . You had not heard this story?"
"Faith, Madame, I did hear some vague rumours of it, but in
England no one would credit it. . . . Sir Percy Blakeney, her
husband, is a very wealthy man, of high social position, the intimate
friend of the Prince of Wales. . .and Lady Blakeney leads both fashion
and society in London."
"That may be, Monsieur, and we shall, of course, lead a very
quiet life in England, but I pray god that while I remain in this
beautiful country, I may never meet Marguerite St. Just."
The proverbial wet-blanket seemed to have fallen over the merry little
company gathered round the table. Suzanne looked sad and silent;
Sir Andrew fidgeted uneasily with his fork, whilst the Comtesse,
encased in the plate-armour of her aristocratic prejudices, sat,
rigid and unbending, in her straight-backed chair. As for Lord Antony,
he looked extremely uncomfortable, and glanced once or twice apprehensively
towards Jellyband, who looked just as uncomfortable as himself.
Pages:
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65