"That is the English in me--the self-indulgent, masterful English. So then, Arenta, being partly French, back to the French she goes. 'Tis passing strange."
"Of this, art thou sure?"
"I have listened to the man. Every one has. He wears Arenta's name on his sleeve. He drinks her health in all companies. He will talk to any stranger he meets, for an hour at a time, about his 'fair Arenta.' I can but wonder at the fellow. It is inconceivable to me; for though I am passionately taken with Cornelia Moran, I hide her close in my heart. I should want to strike any man who breathed her name. Yet it is said of Athanase de Tounnerre that he paid a visit to every one he knew, in order to tell them of his felicity."
"And her father? To such a marriage what will he say?"
Hyde stretched out his legs and struck them lightly with his riding whip. Then, with a smile, he answered, "He will be proud enough in his heart. Arenta would certainly leave him soon, and the Dutch are very sensible to the charm of a title. His daughter, the Marquise de Tounnerre, will be a very great woman in his eyes."
"That is the truth. I was glad for thy mother to be a lady, and go to Court, and see the Queen. Yes, indeed! in my heart I was proud of it 'Twas about that very thing poor Janet Semple and I became unfriends."
"Indeed, it is the common failing; and at present, there is no one like the French. I will except the President, and Mr. Adams, and Mr. Hamilton, and say the rest of us are French mad."
"Thy grandfather, and thy grandmother too, thou may except. And as for thy father, with a great hatred he names them."
"My father is English; and the English and French are natural and salutary enemies. I once heard Lord Exmouth say that France was to England all that Carthage was to Rome--the natural outlet for the temper of a people so quarrelsome that they would fight each other if they had not the French to fight."
"Listen! That is thy father's gallop. Far off, I know it. So early in the morning, what is he coming for?"
"He had an intention to go to Mr. Semple's funeral."
"That is good. Thy grandfather is already gone--" and she looked so pointedly down at her black petticoat and bodice, that Hyde answered-"Yes; I see that you are in mourning. Is it for Mr. Franklin, or for Mr. Semple?"
"Franklin was far off; by my fireside Alexander Semple often sat; and at my table often he ate. Good friends were we once--good friends are we now; for all but Love, Death buries."