"Two years?" replied my uncle. "Is it really two years?"
"Consult your log-books, if they have not been buried with your friend."
"Ah! forgive me, dear Eudoxia, I have had during all this time most
important business."
"Yes," continued my aunt, "we all know what important business you have;
I've heard some fine accounts of you. Do you know what Lord Clifden told
me at St. Petersburg three months ago, while complimenting me upon my
widow's mourning, which, by the way, suited me extremely well? He told
me that during your lifetime you had been a bigamist."
"What a likely story!" exclaimed my uncle, boldly.
"He assured me that he had seen you at Madras with a Spanish woman, you
old traitor! She was young and pretty, and passed openly by the name of
Señora Barbassou. It was surely not worth while making me elope with
you, in order that you might treat me in this fashion!"
"Lord Clifden told you a story, my dear, and a very silly story too. I
hope you did not believe a word of it?"
"Upon my word, you are such an eccentric character, you know!" she
answered, with a laugh.
"And what have you been doing yourself?" continued my uncle, whose
coolness had not deserted him for an instant; "where have you been?"
"Oh, if I were to reckon back to the day you left me, I should lose
myself!" replied my aunt. "A year ago, at this season, I was on my
estate in the Crimea, where I vegetated for five months; then I spent
the winter at St. Petersburg, and the spring at my château in Corfu,
where I had the advantage of a comfortable place in which to mourn over
you. Finally I had been two months at Vienna, when I received from my
steward eight days ago the letter in which you did me the honour of
informing me both of your resurrection and of your desire to see me. I
quickly made my farewell calls, started off, and here I am! Now," she
added, holding out a plaid to him, "if you will kindly allow me to
change these travelling clothes, you will make my happiness complete."
"I am waiting to take you to your room," replied my uncle.
"Nephew," she said to me with a curtsey, "prepare to minister to my
caprices; I have plenty of them when I love.--In return let me say to
you, Take it for granted."