One morning Uncle Philip was surprised in his cabin by the sudden appearance of a very tall, very slender young Frenchman, dressed in the extreme of dandyism; his long, thin face was of deadly whiteness, but his cheeks were tinted with rouge; he had large black eyes, and eyebrows arched up to a point; his immense whiskers were reddish, and met under his chin; but his hair was black, and arranged with great skill and care according to the latest fashion, and filling the apartment with the perfume of attar of roses. Immediately on entering, he strode up to Uncle Philip, and extending a hand whose fingers were decorated with half a dozen showy rings, presented to him a highly-scented rose-coloured card, which announced him as "Monsieur Achille Simagrée de Lantiponne, of Paris." "Well, sir," said Uncle Philip, "and I am Captain Philip Kentledge, once of Salem, Massachusetts, and now of Corinth, New York." "_Oui, je le sais_,"[63] replied the Frenchman, in a loud shrill voice, and with a frown that was meant to be terrific. "_Oui, perfide--traitre--presque scélérat--tremblez! Je vous connois--tremblez, tremblez, je vous dit! Moi, c'est moi qui vous parle!_"[64] [Footnote 63: Yes, I know it.] [Footnote 64: Yes, perfidious man--traitor--almost rascal--tremble. I know you--tremble, tremble. I tell you--I--it is I that am speaking to you.] "What's all this for?" said Uncle Philip, looking amazed. "_Imbecil_," muttered Monsieur de Lantiponne; "_il ne comprend pas le Français._[65] _Eh, bien_; I will, then, address you (_roturier comme vous êtes_[66]) in perfect English, and very cool. How did you dare to have the temerity to rob from me the young miss, my _fiancée_, very soon my bride. Next month I should have conducted her up to the front of the altar. I had just taken four apartments in the Broadway--two for the exercise of my profession of artist in hair, and merchant of perfumes and all good smells; and two up the staircase, where Mademoiselle Robertine would pursue her dresses and her bonnets. United together, we should have made a large fortune. My father was a part of the noblesse of France, but we lost all our nobleness by the revolution. 'Virtue, though unfortunate, is always respectable;' that sentiment was inscribed above the door of my mamma's shop in the Palais Royal." [Footnote 65: Idiot--he does not understand French.] [Footnote 66: Plebeian as you are.] "Well," said Uncle Philip, "and what next?" "What next, _coquin_?"[67] continued the Frenchman, grinding his teeth. "Listen and die. Yesterday, I received from her this letter, enfolding a ring of my hair which once I had plaited for her. Now, I will overwhelm you with shame and repentance by reading to you this fatal letter, translating it into perfect English. _Ah! comme il est difficile d'étouffer mes emotions! N'importe, il faut un grand effort._"[68] [Footnote 67: Knave.]