“Bravo, capital, and a thousand thanks; above all, let me congratulate you on the time you have selected for correcting my errors in French pronunciation. Instead of wishing me good-morning with a kiss, a caress, or a loving word the French professor gives me a lesson in language. Do you give it to me gratuitously, or what do you charge for it?” “There you are, up on your high horse in a moment, and for such a trifle. You are a Tuscan and the _u_ is hard and difficult for those lips of yours, which distil milk and honey; but another time be careful. People will say you do not know French.” “But what French! I ask you if in the excitement of the music, or the torrent of notes, there is anyone who would notice if one said _u_ or _ou_. And I do not speak of a vowel only. Who listens to the words? They can only be distinguished with difficulty.” “There are those who notice. First of all, the French, who do not like to hear their language mutilated; then the envious, the spiteful. Now only see, each time you had to repeat the word _dur_, which you always pronounced _dour_, the Marchioness Vittoria smiled, and looked at her sister, who laughed and then pursed her lips to imitate you. Neither one nor the other was aware that I saw all their pantomime in the mirror.” “How can you tell what they were laughing at? I know that I was very much applauded, and that my voice and method of singing were praised.” “You certainly sing well, but remember that in good society applause is bestowed upon all, especially upon handsome women.” “Yes, but only to those who know how to pronounce the _u_.” “Shall I tell you all, since you are determined to take offence at the slightest observation which I make?” “Yes, tell me.” “Well, the Duke of St. Etienne whilst they so loudly applauded you bent forward to his cousin and said: ‘_Oui, elle chanté très-bien, mais elle a le timbre de la voix un peu dour_.’ And the amiable little cousin covered her face to hide her Homeric laugh.” “_Dur_ or _dour_, I must get up an hour earlier, or else you will drive me mad. My day will be a happy one, and I shall have you to thank for it. A thousand thanks, you master of French!” To know the reason of this sudden burst of anger, why from being slightly keen the conversation became suddenly bitter, and the notes from sharp became acute, you must understand that the cousin of the duke was, from position, youth, and beauty, the official rival of the lady who pronounced _u_ as _ou_. ⁂ They are both seated at the table with their four children, their ages ranging from five to twelve years. She, the mother, is helping them all. He is watching the distribution of a delicious custard. From time to time he frowns, and shakes his head in sign of disapprobation. And this pantomime continued so long that at last she became aware of it, and in her turn looked at him crossly and put down the spoon. “What is the matter? Some new criticism?”