"  It  is  your  pleasure  then,  madame,  that  I  shall  relate  a  morsel  of
family  history  in  this  little  family  society,"  said  Bigaud,  with  a
warning  play  of  his  lithe  fingers  on  her  arm.  "I  am  something  of
a  doctor.     Let  me  touch  your  pulse."

She  suffered  him  to  take  her  wrist  in  his  hand.  Holding  it,  he
proceeded  to  say :

"  A  history  of  a  strange  marriage,   and  a  strange  mother,   and  a

revenge,  and  a  suppression. Aye,  aye,  aye  ?     This  pulse  is  beating

•curiously  !     It  appears  to  me  that  it  doubles  while  I  touch  it.     Are
these  the  usual  changes  of  your  malady,  madame? "

There  was  a  struggle  in  her  maimed  arm  as  she  twisted  it  away,
but  there  was  none  in  her  face.  On  his  face  there  was  his  own
smile.
"  I  have  lived  an  adventurous  life.  I  am  an  adventurous  character.
I  have  known  many  adventurers ;  interesting  spirits — amiable  society !
To  one  of  them  I  owe  my  knowledge,  and  my  proofs — I  repeat  it,
estimable  lady — proofs — of  the  ravishing  little  family  history  I  go  to
commence.  You  will  be  charmed  with  it.  But,  bah !  I  forget.  One
should  name  a  history.  Shall  I  name  it  the  history  of  a  house  ?  But,
bah,  again.  There  are  so  many  houses.  Shall  I  name  it  the  history
of  this  house?"

Leaning  over  the  sofa,  poised  on  two  legs  of  his  chair  and  his  left
elbow ;  that  hand  often  tapping  her  arm,  to  beat  his  words  home ;
his  legs  crossed ;  his  right  hand  sometimes  arranging  his  hair,  some-
times smoothing  his  moustache,  sometimes  striking  his  nose,  always


584  LITTLE   DORRIT.
