in to Newman, with a spark of
infernal impudence, fine as a needlepoint, in her eye. "I don't think
the English climate agrees with him."

"It seems to agree wonderfully well with his mistress," said Newman.

"Do you mean me? I have never been better, thank you," Miss Noemie
declared. "But with MILORD"--and she gave a brilliant glance at her
late companion--"how can one help being well?" She seated herself in the
chair from which her father had risen, and began to arrange the little
dog's rosette.

Lord Deepmere carried off such embarrassment as might be incidental
to this unexpected encounter with the inferior grace of a male and
a Briton. He blushed a good deal, and greeted the object of his late
momentary aspiration to rivalry in the favor of a person other than
the mistress of the invalid pug with an awkward nod and a rapid
ejaculation--an ejaculation to which Newman, who often found it hard to
understand the speech of English people, was able to attach no meaning.
Then the young man stood there, with his hand on his hip, and with a
conscious grin, staring askance at Miss Noemie. Suddenly an idea seemed
to strike him, and he said, turning to Newman, "Oh, you know her?"

"Yes," said Newman, "I know her. I don't believe you do."

"Oh dear, yes, I do!" said Lord Deepmere, with another grin. "I knew
her in Paris--by my poor cousin Bellegarde you know. He knew her, poor
fellow, didn't he? It was she you know, who was at the bottom of his
affair. Awfully sad, wasn't it?" continued the young man, talking off
his embarrassment as his simple nature permitted. "They got up some
story about its being for the Pope; about the other man having said
something against the Pope's morals. They always do that, you know. They
put it on the Pope because Bellegarde was once in the Zouaves. But
it was about HER morals--SHE was the Pope!" Lord Deepmere pursued,
directing an eye illumined by this pleasantry toward Mademoiselle
Nioche, who was bending gracefully over her lap-dog, apparently absorbed
in conversation with it. "I dare say you think it rather odd that I
should--a--keep up the acquaintance," the young man resumed. "But she
couldn't help it, you know, and Bellegarde was only my twentieth cousin.
I dare say you think it's rather cheeky, my showing with her in Hyde
Park. But you see she isn't known yet, and she's in such very good
form"--And Lord Deepmere's conclusion was lost in the attesting glance
which he again directed tow