I would have joined you, but seeing the family
standing in the balcony, I did not wish them to suppose that I knew
anything of such queer company."
"Who was it, Euphemia?" inquired Miss Dundas, in a severe tone.
"I wonder he affects to be ignorant," answered her sister, angrily;
"he knows very well it was only Mr. Constantine."
"And who is Mr. Constantine?" demanded the marquis. Mr. Lascelles
shrugged his shoulders.
"E'faith, my lord! a fellow whom nobody knows--a teacher of
languages, giving himself the airs of a prince--a writer of poetry,
and a man who will draw you, your house or dogs, if you will pay him
for it."
Mary's heart swelled.
"What, a French emigrant?" drawled his lordship, dropping his lip;
"and the lovely Euphemia wishes to soothe his sorrows."
"No, my lord," stammered Euphemia, "he is--he is----"
"What!" interrupted Lascelles, with a malicious grin. "A wandering
beggar, who thrusts himself into society which may some day repay his
insolence with chastisement! And for the people who encourage him,
they had better beware of being themselves driven from all good
company. Such confounders of degrees ought to be degraded from the
rank they disgrace. I understand his chief protectress is Lady
Tinemouth; his second, Lady Sara Ross, who, by way of _passant le
temps,_ shows she is not quite inconsolable at the absence of her
husband.
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