_Mad. L._ Do you know, my dear, that I don't feel quite easy in my mind about that young man. _Bev._ [_Aside._] Nor I, either. _Mar._ Why not, mamma? _Mad. L._ He is much too charming to make a good steward. _Mar._ Really; I do not perceive it. A person may be honest and well-behaved, although he does happen to play on the piano. _Bev._ I don't know that; I flatter myself I have seen something of the world, and experience has specially taught me to beware of the man who plays the piano. _Mar._ Mamma, dear, will you hand me those scissors? _Mad. L._ Yes, my child. [_Perceives MANUEL'S portfolio._] Whose drawing-book is this? _Mar._ That? oh! that is the steward's--I saw it in his hand when he came in. _Mad. L._ I positively must take a peep. Oh! De Bevannes, look! beautiful! What a charming accomplishment it is to draw well. _Mar._ Yes, for an engineer, or a builder-- _Bev._ Or an actor-- _Mar._ Why gracious! Monsieur de Bevannes, you have said a good thing. _Bev._ Have I? Allow me to apologize. _Mar._ Not at all; it's your _first_ offence. _Mad. L._ How beautifully finished these groups are. _Bev._ Positively, they're not so bad. _Mad. L._ Bad! my dear sir; they're exquisite. Look, for instance at that horse--is it not perfection? _Bev._ It would be, doubtless--only it happens to be a cow. _Mad.L._ A cow? _Bev._ I think so; horses don't go about with two horns. _Enter MANUEL._ _Man._ Your pardon, ladies; but I believe I left my drawing-book-- _Mad. L._ Allow me to return it, sir--and to thank you for an accident which has afforded us much pleasure. _Man._ Madame, you are too kind--so kind, indeed, that you have too long refrained from permitting me to commence my duties. With your consent, I will at once set about them. Your farm at Langeot, of which you spoke to me, is not more, I think, than a mile or two from this. I will walk over there this afternoon, and-- _Mad. L._ Walk! over such a miserable bad road as it is. Indeed, sir, I could not allow it. _Enter MADAME AUBREY._ _Mad. A._ Hush! Pray, _pray_, not so much noise. My dear cousin has composed himself to sleep. _Bev._ Noise! it appears to me we were pretty quiet. _Mad. A._ Ah, sir, you might think so; but the least sound jars upon his poor nerves. [_Weeps._ _Bev._ [_Aside._] I never saw such a devil of a woman as this is, to cry. _Man._ But I assure you, Madame, that I would rather walk. If I pretend to be your steward--why steward I must be, and not fine gentleman. _Mad. L._ [_To_ MARGUERITE.] My dear, would it be proper to allow M. Manuel to walk? _Mar._ I believe it is usual for the steward to do so. However, I see no reason why he should not ride, if he chooses. There are plenty of horses in the stable. _Mad. A._ Ah! [_Weeps._ _Bev._ What's the matter, Madame? _Mad. A._ Talking of riding always overcomes me.