“As little as possible! So long as you look sufficiently handsome and stare bold enough, ’twill serve. Now, let me look at you! Cock your chin, girl—so! Gad’s life, but you’re a handsome creature and look as haughty a fine city-madam as need be. Now mind to be sufficiently disdainful of all and sundry and especially of me——” “Nay, my lady, ’twere impossible! I shall be calling you mam and madam, for sure.” “Zounds no, Bet, ’twould ruin all! You must be mighty short with me, rap my knuckles with your fan and rail on me if possible——” “Rail on thee, my dear lady—oh, I couldn’t!” “You must, girl! And if you could swear a little ’twould be pure!” “Swear, mem—me? Who at?” “At Sir John Dering if possible.” “But I don’t know how to swear, mem.” “You’ve heard me often enough!” “Aye, but I could never swear so sweet and ladylike as you, mem.” “Why, then,” sighed her ladyship, “we must forgo your swearing, I suppose, though ’tis pity. But hark’ee, Bet, and mark this well! Should Sir John come endeavouring to persuade you to return to England, you will raise your eyebrows—so! Droop your eyelids—thus! and say: ‘Howbeit, sir, ’tis my pleasure to journey on to Paris!’ Then turn your back on him and send me to command your coach to the door——” “Aye—and when it comes, my lady?” “Why, get in and drive away, sure!” “But where to, mem?” “Towards Paris, silly wench—or anywhere you choose——” “And you, madam? You will come along o’ me?” “Perchance I may and perchance not. Mayhap I shall run away—disappear at the last moment—I’m not decided on this yet——” “O my dear lady——” “If I should think fit to run away, you will drive as far as St. Pol, then turn back to Dieppe, where you shall probably find me at the ‘Eperon d’Or’—Giles knows it——” “But, my lady—O mem—what o’ yourself?” “So long as I am myself I shall be safe, child. I’ll play my part, do you play yours! Remember, should you meet the gentlemen below, swim in your walk, tilt your chin, say nothing—and stare. Stare above ’em, below ’em and through ’em, but never at ’em. And now I’ll go order supper—in private, for thy sake, Bet. Lud, but I’m famished!” And a-down the creaking stair tripped my Lady Herminia Barrasdaile, as dainty a waiting-maid as ever was or ever will be. Then it chanced that Sir John, rolling his eyes in the throes of poetical composition, suddenly beheld her standing radiant in the doorway, all fresh, shapely young womanhood from ribbanded cap to trim shoe; and struck by her air of modesty and all the shy-sweet beauty of her, he sighed, closed his tablets and slipped them into his pocket. “Ah, Rose,” said he, “thou flower of innocence, sure no words of mine may do thee justice; thou’rt beyond my poor poesy. Come hither, child, and tell me, is your mistress still for Paris?” “’Deed, yes, sir, she seems mighty set on’t.” “Alas, sweet Rose!” “Is Paris so tur’ble wicked, sir?”