For at that moment her ladyship entered and tottered to a seat, wiping her brow, and making signs to Tryphie, who half supported her, for her salts. That young lady had to turn to Justine, who was supposed to be carrying the bag, but who in turn had to take it from Robbins, who looked as if he had been in a bath, and had dressed himself without a prior reference to a towel. For his fat face was covered with drops and runlets, and his grey hair hung wetly upon his brow. The smelling-bottle was, however, found, and her ladyship took a long inhalation, and said, "Hah!" CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. ON THE BRINK. "I've found you then at last," said her ladyship, recovering fast. "Robbins, go and tell that wretched Italian porter creature I will not pay him another penny. No, say _soldi_, or _scudi_, which you like. It's a gross imposition." "Yes, my lady." "Justine," continued her ladyship, "you understand the language?" "No, my lady, not Italian." "Then speak to him in French, it will impress the man. Go and see that Robbins is not imposed upon. Now, Robbins, mind and be firm. This is not London." "No, milady." "And don't lose any more luggage." "No, my lady," said Robbins; and he left the room with Justine. "Luggage, indeed," he growled; "all this row about a sandwich-box, and she left it in the rack herself." "Nevaire mind her, Rob--bain," said Justine; "take him coolly." "Take _him_ coolly. Yes, ma'amselle, I can the governor; but her ladyship." "Ah, yais, she is a womans. But see me, I do not complain; I am drag all ovaire Europe by her ladyship, who have rob me of my loaf till I return and see him once again. I do not complain." In the coffee-room her ladyship button-holed Lord Barmouth directly, and then took Tom's seat at the table, while that gentleman grasped Tryphie's hand. "Oh, Tom," she said, "what news?" "You've both come," he said shortly. "Is that all you have to say?" "All? Ah, Tom dear, if you only knew how much." This was accompanied by so pleasant a pressure of the hand that Tom's acidity began to evaporate in gas, and he turned to help his father, who was giving way under a vigorous attack. For as he approached the table her ladyship exclaimed, with a warning motion of her index finger-- "Now, Barmouth, your gout is much worse." "Ye-yes, my dear," said his lordship, "I'm--I'm afraid it is." "Of course! You've been taking port wine recklessly." "No, no, really, my dear: the port is so horribly bad that--" "Then you've had Burgundy." "Well--well, yes, a little, my dear." "I knew it! What's this?" cried her ladyship, seizing the bottle on the table. "Burgundy, of course." "No, Barolo," said Tom. "Regular physic for gout, isn't it, gov'nor. Take another glass." "Shall I, my boy?" said the old man, hesitating. "Of course," cried Tom, pouring one out, which his lordship eagerly drank. "Tom!" ejaculated her ladyship, whose breath seemed to be taken away by the daring displayed.