In Mr. Knox's CountrySomerville, E. Oe. (Edith Oenone)
General
In Mr. Knox's Country
Somerville, E. Oe. (Edith Oenone)
British -- Ireland -- Fiction; Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Judges -- Fiction
"Call him the Comte de Pralines," said Philippa, with suspicious
promptitude.
"You can call him Napoleon Buonaparte if you like," I said defiantly,
"_I_ shall stay at home!"
"All the Curranhilty people will be there," said Philippa softly.
The thought of introducing the Comte de Pralines to Miss Bobbie Bennett
was certainly attractive.
"I refuse to introduce him to Lady Knox," I said with determination,
and knew that I had yielded.
A meet at Castle Knox always brought out a crowd; there were generally
foxes, and always luncheon, and there was a touch of the G.O.C. about
Lady Knox that added a pleasing edge of anxiety, and raised the meet to
something of the nature of a full-dress parade. I held to my point
about Lady Knox, and did nothing more compromising than tremble in the
background, while Bill Cunningham presented the Comte de Pralines to
the lady of the house, supplementing the presentation with the
statements that this was his first visit to Ireland, and that he spoke
no English.
The Comte de Pralines, in the newest of pink coats, and the whitest of
breeches, and the most glittering of boots and spurs, stood on the step
below Lady Knox, with the bridle of his hireling over his arm, and his
shining silk hat in his hand. Still with his hat in his hand, and
looking, as Miss Larkie McRory whispered to me, "as pretty as a
Christmas card," the Count rippled forth a stream of mellifluous
French, commenting upon the beauty of the day, of the place, of the
scene.
Lady Knox's face deepened to so apoplectic a crimson, and her eyes
became so fixed that I, watching the scene apprehensively, doubted if
it were not my duty to rush at her and cut open her hunting-stock.
When the Count ceased, having, as far as I could gather, enquired as to
when she had last been to Auteuil, and if she had ever hunted in
France, Lady Knox paused, and said very slowly:
"Er--_j'espère que nous aurons un bon jour aujourdhui_." Then,
rapidly, to me, "Take your friend in for a drink, Major Yeates."
My heart bled for her, and also quaked for myself, but I was into it
now, up to my chin.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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