“No audacity at all. I am sure of my welcome. How often must I tell you that we have mesmerized each other, that lady and I, and only waiting an opportunity to rush into each other's arms. It began with her singling me out at the opera. But I dare say that was owing, _at first,_ only to my being in full dress. “No, no; to your being, like Agamemnon, a head taller than all the other Greeks.” “Harrington! I am not a Greek. I am a thorough English girl at heart, though I am as black as a coal.” “No apology needed in our present frame. You are all the more like the ace of spades.” “Do you want me to take you to the Klosking, sir? Then you had better not make fun of me. I tell you she sung to _me,_ and smiled on _me,_ and courtesied to _me;_ and, now you have put it into my head, I mean to call upon her, and I will take you with me. What I shall do, I shall send in my card. I shall be admitted, and you will wait outside. As soon as she sees me, she will run to me with both hands out, and say, in excellent _French,_ I hope, _'How,_ mademoiselle! you have deigned to remember me, and to honor me with a visit.' Then I shall say, in school-French, 'Yes, madame; excuse the intrusion, but I was so charmed with your performance. We leave Homburg to-morrow, and as, unfortunately for myself, I cannot have the pleasure of seeing you again upon the stage--' then I shall stop, for her to interrupt me. Then she will interrupt me, and say charming things, as only foreigners can; and then I shall say, still in school-French, 'Madame, I am not alone. I have my brother with me. He adores music, and was as fascinated with your Siebel as myself. May I present him?' Then she will say, 'Oh, yes, by all means;' and I shall introduce you. Then you can make love to her. That will be droll. Fanny, I'll tell you every word he says.” “Make love to her!” cried Vizard. “Is this your estimate of a brother's motives. My object in visiting this lady is, not to feed my mania, but to cure it. I have seen her on the stage, looking like the incarnation of a poet's dream. I am _extasie'_ with her. Now let me catch her _en de'shabille,_ with her porter on one side, and her lover on the other: and so to Devonshire, relieved of a fatal illusion.” “If that is your view, I'll go by myself; for I know she is a noble woman, and as much a lady off the stage as on it. My only fear is she will talk that dreadful guttural German, with its 'oches' and its 'aches,' and then where shall we all be? We must ask Mr. Severne to go with us.” “A good idea. No--a vile one. He is abominably handsome, and has the gift of the gab--in German, and other languages. He is sure to cut me out, the villain! Look him up, somebody, till we come back.” “Now, Harrington, don't be absurd. He must, and shall, be of the party. I have my reasons. Mr. Severne,” said she, turning on him with a blush and a divine smile, “you will oblige me, I am sure.”