Gustave’s in the boot trade, you know,
Captain Pullen! We trade under the name of Fantaisie et Cie! The best
boots and shoes in London, and the largest manufactory, I give you my
word! You should get your boots from us. I know you dandy officers are
awfully particular about your tootsies. If you’ll come and see me in
London, I’ll take you over the manufactory, and give you a pair. You’ll
never buy any others, once you’ve tried ’em!”

Ralph Pullen bowed again, and said he felt certain that Madame was
right and he looked forward to the fulfilment of her promise with the
keenest anticipation. Harriet Brandt meanwhile, sitting almost opposite to the stranger,
was regarding him from under the thick lashes of her slumbrous eyes,
like a lynx watching its prey. She had never seen so good-looking and
aristocratic a young man before. His crisp golden hair and drooping
moustaches, his fair complexion, blue eyes and chiselled features,
were a revelation to her. Would the Princes whom Madame Gobelli had
promised she should meet at her house, be anything like him, she
wondered--_could_ they be as handsome, as perfectly dressed, as
fashionable, as completely at their ease, as the man before her? Every
other moment, she was stealing a veiled glance at him--and Captain
Pullen was quite aware of the fact. What young man, or woman, is not
aware when they are being furtively admired? Ralph Pullen was one of
the most conceited of his sex, which is not saying a little--he was
_accomblé_ with female attentions wherever he went, yet he was not
_blasé_ with them, so long as he was not called upon to reciprocate
in kind. Each time that Harriet’s magnetic gaze sought his face, his
eyes by some mystical chance were lifted to meet it, and though all
four lids were modestly dropped again, their owners did not forget the
effect their encounter had left behind it. “’Ave you been round Heyst yet, Captain Pullen,” vociferated Madame
Gobelli, “and met the Procession? I never saw such rubbish in my life. I laughed fit to burst myself! A lot of children rigged out in blue and
white, carrying a doll on a stick, and a crowd of fools following and
singing ’ymns. Call that Religion? It’s all tommy rot. Don’t you agree
with me, Mrs. Pullen?”

“I cannot say that I do, Madame! I have been taught to respect every
religion that is followed with sincerity, whether I agree with its
doctrine or not. Besides, I thought the procession you allude to a very
pretty sight. Some of the children with their fair hair and wreaths of
flowers looked like little angels!”

“O! you’re an ’umbug!” exclaimed the Baroness, “you say that just to
please these Papists. Not that I wouldn’t just as soon be a Papist as
a Protestant, but I ’ate cant. I wouldn’t ’ave Bobby ’ere, brought up
in any religion. Let ’im choose for ’imself when ’e’s a man, I said,
but no cant, no ’umbug! I ’ad a governess for ’im once, a dirty little
sneak, who thought she’d get the better of me, so she made the boy
kneel down each night and say, ‘God bless father and mother and all
kind friends, and God bless my enemies.’ I came on ’em one evening and
I ’ad ’im up on his legs in a moment. I won’t ’ave it, Bobby, I said,
I won’t ’ave you telling lies for anyone, and I made ’im repeat after
me, ‘God bless father and mother and all kind friends, and d--n my
enemies.’ The governess was so angry with me, that she gave warning,
he! he! he! But I ’ad my way, and Bobby ’asn’t said a prayer since,
’ave you, Bobby?”

“Sometimes, Mamma!” replied the lad in a low voice. Margaret Pullen’s
kind eyes sought his at once with an encouraging smile. “Well! you’d better not let me ’ear you, or I’ll give you ‘what for’. I
’ate ’umbug, don’t you, Captain Pullen?”

“Unreservedly, Madame!” replied Ralph in a stifled voice and with an
inflamed countenance. He had been trying to conceal his amusement for
some time past, greatly to the disgust of Miss Leyton, who would have
had him pass by his opposite neighbour’s remarks in silent contempt,
and the effort had been rather trying. As he spoke, his eyes sought
those of Harriet Brandt again, and discovered the sympathy with
his distress, lurking in them, coupled with a very evident look of
admiration for himself. He looked at her back again--only one look, but
it spoke volumes! Captain Pullen had never given such a glance at his
_fiancée_, nor received one from her! It is problematical if Elinor
Leyton _could_ make a telegraph of her calm brown eyes--if her soul (if
indeed she had in that sense a soul at all) ever pierced the bounds
of its dwelling-place to look through its windows. As the dessert
appeared, Margaret whispered to her brother-in-law,

“If we do not make our escape now, we may not get rid of her all the
evening,” at which hint he rose from table, and the trio left the
_salle à manger_ together. As Margaret descended again, equipped for
their evening stroll, she perceived Harriet Brandt in the corridor also
ready, and waiting apparently for her. She took her aside at once. “I cannot ask you to join us in our walk this evening, Miss Brandt,”
she said, “because, as it is the first day of my brother’s arrival, we
shall naturally have many family topics to discuss together!”

For the first time since their acquaintance, she observed a sullen look
creep over Harriet Brandt’s features. “I am going to walk with the Baron and Baroness, thank you all the
same!” she replied to Margaret’s remark, and turning on her heel,
she re-entered her room. Margaret did not believe her statement, but
she was glad she had had the courage to warn her--she knew it would
have greatly annoyed Elinor if the girl she detested had accompanied
them on that first evening. The walk proved after all to be a very
ordinary one. They paraded up and down the Digue, until they were tired
and then they sat down on green chairs and listened to the orchestra
whilst Ralph smoked his cigarettes. Elinor was looking her best. She
was pleased and mildly excited--her costume became her--and she was
presumably enjoying herself, but as far as her joy in Captain Pullen
went, she might have been walking with her father or her brother. The
conscious looks that had passed between him and Harriet Brandt were
utterly wanting. They began by talking of home, of Elinor’s family, and the last news
that Margaret had received from Arthur--and then went on to discuss
the visitors to the Hotel. Miss Leyton waxed loud in her denunciation
of the Baroness and her familiar vulgarity--she deplored the ill fate
that had placed them in such close proximity at the _table d’hôte_, and
hoped that Ralph would not hesitate to change his seat if the annoyance
became too great. She had warned him, she said, of what he might expect
by joining them at Heyst. “My dear girl,” he replied, “pray don’t distress yourself!