"Ah, bah! Would I so demean myself, m'sieur? It is I who am of a peaceable nature, _n'est-ce pas_? But Jacques--_voyons, c'est autre chose_! He is possessed of the hot temper, _ce pauvre_ Jacques. I fear for that Moggat if he enrages our Jacques." He shook his head solemnly, and picked up the grey satin coat. "If m'sieur would find it convenient to rise? Ah, _bien_!" He coaxed Philip into the coat, bit by bit. "I say to you, m'sieur, I am consumed of an anxiety. Jacques, he is a veritable fire-eater when he is roused, not like me, who am always _doux comme un enfant_. I think, perhaps, he will refuse to remain in the house with this pig of a Moggat." Philip shook out his ruffles. "I have never noticed that Jacques showed signs of a so violent temper," he remarked. "But no! Of a surety, he would not exhibit his terrible passion to m'sieur! Is it that I should permit him?" "Well," Philip slipped a ring on to his finger, "I am sorry for Jacques, but he must be patient. Soon I shall go to a house of my own." François' face cleared as if by magic. "M'sieur is kind! A house of his own. _Je me rangerai bien!_ M'sieur contemplates a _mariage_, perhaps?" Philip dropped his snuff-box. "_Que diable--?_" he began, and checked himself. "Mind your own business, François!" "_Ah, pardon, m'sieur!_" replied the irrepressible François. "I but thought that m'sieur had the desire to wed, that he should return to England so hurriedly!" "Hold your tongue!" said Philip sharply. "Understand me, François, I'll have no meddling _bavardage_ about me either to my face or below stairs! _C'est entendu?_" "But yes, m'sieur," said François, abashed. "It is that my tongue runs away with me." "You'd best keep a guard over it," answered Philip curtly. "Yes, m'sieur!" Meekly he handed Philip his cane and handkerchief. Then, as his master still frowned, "M'sieur is still enraged?" he ventured. Philip glanced down at him. At the sight of François' anxious, naïve expression, the frown faded, and he laughed. "You are quite ridiculous," he said. François broke into responsive smiles at once. * * * * * But when Philip had rustled away to join his uncle, the little valet nodded shrewdly to himself and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "_En vérité, c'est une femme_," he remarked. "_C'est ce que j'ai cru._" Twelve Philip Plays a Dangerous Game