“Three years ago,” continued the Count, laughing. “You have no idea, Mr. Maurice, how astonished I was to meet my friend here. By the way, you must allow me to call you Mr. Maurice; I make such a mess of your English names.” “I think you speak English wonderfully well, Count. Where did you learn, may I ask, if it is not a rude question?” “I had an English tutor,” replied Caliphronas, stealing a glance at Crispin; “and I have been accustomed to your tongue since a lad.” “Ah, that accounts for it. Well, come with me, Count, and I will show you your room. Crispin, Mrs. Dengelton and her daughter are already in the drawing-room, so you had better make haste.” Crispin went off as quickly as possible, and Maurice hospitably conducted his guest to the room prepared for him, where Roylands’ valet was already spreading out the Count’s evening dress. This duty having been performed, Mr. Roylands hurried away to his guests in the drawing-room, and the Count was left alone with the valet, whom he speedily dismissed. “Thank you; I won’t require anything else,” he said, when the servant had arranged all his clothes. “I am accustomed to wait on myself. Dinner is in half an hour?” “Yes, sir,” replied the valet, and retired quietly. The fact is, Caliphronas had a habit of thinking aloud, and, as he had a good many matters to consider, he was afraid of committing himself if a second person were in the room; therefore, having got rid of the servant, he began to dress slowly for dinner, thinking deeply all the time. “I do not think Creespeen will say anything,” he said aloud in Greek, as he arranged his white tie; “very likely he will help me, if I can manage him. How upright he is now—how very upright, and to think”— Here the Count went into a fit of silent laughter, which lasted until he arrived at the door of the drawing-room, when he controlled his risible muscles, and went in gravely to be introduced to the ladies. CHAPTER VII. SOUVENT FEMME VARIE. Woman’s a weathercock, Full of frivolity. Men may together mock At her heart’s quality. But if a heart she steals, Worth all the smart she feels, There then her place is; Lo, then the nether rock Less firm of base is.