The Amateur Gentleman

"At the back of the arbor," she nodded, "with my ear to the panelling,

--I am sometimes a little deaf, you see."

"You mean that you were--actually prying--?"

"And I enjoyed it all very much, especially your 'immaculate' speech,

which was very heroic, but perfectly ridiculous, of course. Indeed,

you are a dreadfully young, young sir, I fear. In future, I warn you

not to tell a woman, too often, how much you respect her, or she'll

begin to think you don't love her at all. To be over-respectful

doesn't sit well on a lover, and 'tis most unfair and very trying to

the lady, poor soul!"

"To hearken to a private conversation doesn't sit well on a lady,

madam, or an honorable woman."

"No, indeed, young sir. But then, you see, I'm neither. I'm only a

Duchess, and a very old one at that, and I think I told you I wore a

wig? But 'all the world loves a lover,' and so do I. As soon as ever

I saw you I knew you for a lover of the 'everything-or-nothing' type.

Oh, yes, all lovers are of different types, sir, and I think I know

'em all. You see, when I was young and beautiful--ages ago--lovers

were a hobby of mine,--I studied them, sir. And, of 'em all, I

preferred the 'everything-or-nothing, fire-and-ice, kiss-me-or-kill-me'

type. That was why I followed you, that was why I watched and listened,

and, I grieve to say, I didn't find you as deliciously brutal as I

had hoped."

"Brutal, madam? Indeed, I--"

"Of course! When you snatched her up in your arms,--and I'll admit

you did it very well,--when you had her there, you should have

covered her with burning kisses, and with an oath after each. Girls

like Cleone need a little brutality and--Ah! there's the Countess!

And smiling at me quite lovingly, I declare! Now I wonder what rod

she has in pickle for me? Dear me, sir, how dusty your coat is! And

spurred boots and buckskins are scarcely the mode for a garden fete.

Still, they're distinctive, and show off your leg to advantage,

better than those abominable Cossack things,--and I doat upon a good

leg--" But here she broke off and turned to greet the Countess,--a

large, imposing, bony lady in a turban, with the eye and the beak of

a hawk.

"My dearest Letitia!"

"My dear Duchess,--my darling Fanny, you 're younger than ever,

positively you are,--I'd never have believed it!" cried the Countess,

more hawk-like than ever. "I heard you were failing fast, but now I

look at you, dearest Fanny, I vow you don't look a day older than

seventy."

"And I'm seventy-one, alas!" sighed the Duchess, her eyes young with

mischief. "And you, my sweetest creature,--how well you look! Who

would ever imagine that we were at school together, Letitia!"