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With
a
considerable
amount
of
jingling
and
whip
-
cracking
,
and
many
plunging
demonstrations
on
the
part
of
two
bare
-
backed
horses
and
two
centaurs
with
glazed
hats
,
jack
-
boots
,
and
flowing
manes
and
tails
,
they
rattle
out
of
the
yard
of
the
Hotel
Bristol
in
the
Place
Vendome
and
canter
between
the
sun
-
and
-
shadow
-
chequered
colonnade
of
the
Rue
de
Rivoli
and
the
garden
of
the
ill
-
fated
palace
of
a
headless
king
and
queen
,
off
by
the
Place
of
Concord
,
and
the
Elysian
Fields
,
and
the
Gate
of
the
Star
,
out
of
Paris
.
Sooth
to
say
,
they
cannot
go
away
too
fast
,
for
even
here
my
Lady
Dedlock
has
been
bored
to
death
.
Concert
,
assembly
,
opera
,
theatre
,
drive
,
nothing
is
new
to
my
Lady
under
the
worn
-
out
heavens
.
Only
last
Sunday
,
when
poor
wretches
were
gay
—
within
the
walls
playing
with
children
among
the
clipped
trees
and
the
statues
in
the
Palace
Garden
;
walking
,
a
score
abreast
,
in
the
Elysian
Fields
,
made
more
Elysian
by
performing
dogs
and
wooden
horses
;
between
whiles
filtering
(
a
few
)
through
the
gloomy
Cathedral
of
Our
Lady
to
say
a
word
or
two
at
the
base
of
a
pillar
within
flare
of
a
rusty
little
gridiron
-
full
of
gusty
little
tapers
;
without
the
walls
encompassing
Paris
with
dancing
,
love
-
making
,
wine
-
drinking
,
tobacco
-
smoking
,
tomb
-
visiting
,
billiard
card
and
domino
playing
,
quack
-
doctoring
,
and
much
murderous
refuse
,
animate
and
inanimate
—
only
last
Sunday
,
my
Lady
,
in
the
desolation
of
Boredom
and
the
clutch
of
Giant
Despair
,
almost
hated
her
own
maid
for
being
in
spirits
.
She
cannot
,
therefore
,
go
too
fast
from
Paris
.
Weariness
of
soul
lies
before
her
,
as
it
lies
behind
—
her
Ariel
has
put
a
girdle
of
it
round
the
whole
earth
,
and
it
cannot
be
unclasped
—
but
the
imperfect
remedy
is
always
to
fly
from
the
last
place
where
it
has
been
experienced
.
Fling
Paris
back
into
the
distance
,
then
,
exchanging
it
for
endless
avenues
and
cross
-
avenues
of
wintry
trees
!
And
,
when
next
beheld
,
let
it
be
some
leagues
away
,
with
the
Gate
of
the
Star
a
white
speck
glittering
in
the
sun
,
and
the
city
a
mere
mound
in
a
plain
—
two
dark
square
towers
rising
out
of
it
,
and
light
and
shadow
descending
on
it
aslant
,
like
the
angels
in
Jacob
’
s
dream
!
Sir
Leicester
is
generally
in
a
complacent
state
,
and
rarely
bored
.
When
he
has
nothing
else
to
do
,
he
can
always
contemplate
his
own
greatness
.
It
is
a
considerable
advantage
to
a
man
to
have
so
inexhaustible
a
subject
.
After
reading
his
letters
,
he
leans
back
in
his
corner
of
the
carriage
and
generally
reviews
his
importance
to
society
.
"
You
have
an
unusual
amount
of
correspondence
this
morning
?
"
says
my
Lady
after
a
long
time
.
She
is
fatigued
with
reading
.
Has
almost
read
a
page
in
twenty
miles
.
"
Nothing
in
it
,
though
.
Nothing
whatever
.
"
"
I
saw
one
of
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
’
s
long
effusions
,
I
think
?
"
"
You
see
everything
,
"
says
Sir
Leicester
with
admiration
.
"
Ha
!
"
sighs
my
Lady
.
"
He
is
the
most
tiresome
of
men
!
"
"
He
sends
—
I
really
beg
your
pardon
—
he
sends
,
"
says
Sir
Leicester
,
selecting
the
letter
and
unfolding
it
,
"
a
message
to
you
.
Our
stopping
to
change
horses
as
I
came
to
his
postscript
drove
it
out
of
my
memory
.
I
beg
you
’
ll
excuse
me
.
He
says
—
"
Sir
Leicester
is
so
long
in
taking
out
his
eye
-
glass
and
adjusting
it
that
my
Lady
looks
a
little
irritated
.
"
He
says
’
In
the
matter
of
the
right
of
way
—
’
I
beg
your
pardon
,
that
’
s
not
the
place
.
He
says
—
yes
!
Here
I
have
it
!
He
says
,
’
I
beg
my
respectful
compliments
to
my
Lady
,
who
,
I
hope
,
has
benefited
by
the
change
.
Will
you
do
me
the
favour
to
mention
(
as
it
may
interest
her
)
that
I
have
something
to
tell
her
on
her
return
in
reference
to
the
person
who
copied
the
affidavit
in
the
Chancery
suit
,
which
so
powerfully
stimulated
her
curiosity
.
I
have
seen
him
.
’
"
My
Lady
,
leaning
forward
,
looks
out
of
her
window
.
"
That
’
s
the
message
,
"
observes
Sir
Leicester
.
"
I
should
like
to
walk
a
little
,
"
says
my
Lady
,
still
looking
out
of
her
window
.
"
Walk
?
"
repeats
Sir
Leicester
in
a
tone
of
surprise
.
"
I
should
like
to
walk
a
little
,
"
says
my
Lady
with
unmistakable
distinctness
.
"
Please
to
stop
the
carriage
.
"
The
carriage
is
stopped
,
the
affectionate
man
alights
from
the
rumble
,
opens
the
door
,
and
lets
down
the
steps
,
obedient
to
an
impatient
motion
of
my
Lady
’
s
hand
.
My
Lady
alights
so
quickly
and
walks
away
so
quickly
that
Sir
Leicester
,
for
all
his
scrupulous
politeness
,
is
unable
to
assist
her
,
and
is
left
behind
.
A
space
of
a
minute
or
two
has
elapsed
before
he
comes
up
with
her
.
She
smiles
,
looks
very
handsome
,
takes
his
arm
,
lounges
with
him
for
a
quarter
of
a
mile
,
is
very
much
bored
,
and
resumes
her
seat
in
the
carriage
.
The
rattle
and
clatter
continue
through
the
greater
part
of
three
days
,
with
more
or
less
of
bell
-
jingling
and
whip
-
cracking
,
and
more
or
less
plunging
of
centaurs
and
bare
-
backed
horses
.
Their
courtly
politeness
to
each
other
at
the
hotels
where
they
tarry
is
the
theme
of
general
admiration
.
Though
my
Lord
IS
a
little
aged
for
my
Lady
,
says
Madame
,
the
hostess
of
the
Golden
Ape
,
and
though
he
might
be
her
amiable
father
,
one
can
see
at
a
glance
that
they
love
each
other
.
One
observes
my
Lord
with
his
white
hair
,
standing
,
hat
in
hand
,
to
help
my
Lady
to
and
from
the
carriage
.
One
observes
my
Lady
,
how
recognisant
of
my
Lord
’
s
politeness
,
with
an
inclination
of
her
gracious
head
and
the
concession
of
her
so
-
genteel
fingers
!
It
is
ravishing
!
The
sea
has
no
appreciation
of
great
men
,
but
knocks
them
about
like
the
small
fry
.
It
is
habitually
hard
upon
Sir
Leicester
,
whose
countenance
it
greenly
mottles
in
the
manner
of
sage
-
cheese
and
in
whose
aristocratic
system
it
effects
a
dismal
revolution
.
It
is
the
Radical
of
Nature
to
him
.
Nevertheless
,
his
dignity
gets
over
it
after
stopping
to
refit
,
and
he
goes
on
with
my
Lady
for
Chesney
Wold
,
lying
only
one
night
in
London
on
the
way
to
Lincolnshire
.
Through
the
same
cold
sunlight
,
colder
as
the
day
declines
,
and
through
the
same
sharp
wind
,
sharper
as
the
separate
shadows
of
bare
trees
gloom
together
in
the
woods
,
and
as
the
Ghost
’
s
Walk
,
touched
at
the
western
corner
by
a
pile
of
fire
in
the
sky
,
resigns
itself
to
coming
night
,
they
drive
into
the
park
.
The
rooks
,
swinging
in
their
lofty
houses
in
the
elm
-
tree
avenue
,
seem
to
discuss
the
question
of
the
occupancy
of
the
carriage
as
it
passes
underneath
,
some
agreeing
that
Sir
Leicester
and
my
Lady
are
come
down
,
some
arguing
with
malcontents
who
won
’
t
admit
it
,
now
all
consenting
to
consider
the
question
disposed
of
,
now
all
breaking
out
again
in
violent
debate
,
incited
by
one
obstinate
and
drowsy
bird
who
will
persist
in
putting
in
a
last
contradictory
croak
.
Leaving
them
to
swing
and
caw
,
the
travelling
chariot
rolls
on
to
the
house
,
where
fires
gleam
warmly
through
some
of
the
windows
,
though
not
through
so
many
as
to
give
an
inhabited
expression
to
the
darkening
mass
of
front
.
But
the
brilliant
and
distinguished
circle
will
soon
do
that
.
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
is
in
attendance
and
receives
Sir
Leicester
’
s
customary
shake
of
the
hand
with
a
profound
curtsy
.
"
How
do
you
do
,
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
?
I
am
glad
to
see
you
.
"
"
I
hope
I
have
the
honour
of
welcoming
you
in
good
health
,
Sir
Leicester
?
"
"
In
excellent
health
,
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
.
"
"
My
Lady
is
looking
charmingly
well
,
"
says
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
with
another
curtsy
.
My
Lady
signifies
,
without
profuse
expenditure
of
words
,
that
she
is
as
wearily
well
as
she
can
hope
to
be
.
But
Rosa
is
in
the
distance
,
behind
the
housekeeper
;
and
my
Lady
,
who
has
not
subdued
the
quickness
of
her
observation
,
whatever
else
she
may
have
conquered
,
asks
,
"
Who
is
that
girl
?
"
"
A
young
scholar
of
mine
,
my
Lady
.
Rosa
.
"
"
Come
here
,
Rosa
!
"
Lady
Dedlock
beckons
her
,
with
even
an
appearance
of
interest
.
"
Why
,
do
you
know
how
pretty
you
are
,
child
?
"
she
says
,
touching
her
shoulder
with
her
two
forefingers
.
Rosa
,
very
much
abashed
,
says
,
"
No
,
if
you
please
,
my
Lady
!
"
and
glances
up
,
and
glances
down
,
and
don
’
t
know
where
to
look
,
but
looks
all
the
prettier
.
"
How
old
are
you
?
"
"
Nineteen
,
my
Lady
.
"
"
Nineteen
,
"
repeats
my
Lady
thoughtfully
.
"
Take
care
they
don
’
t
spoil
you
by
flattery
.
"
"
Yes
,
my
Lady
.
"
My
Lady
taps
her
dimpled
cheek
with
the
same
delicate
gloved
fingers
and
goes
on
to
the
foot
of
the
oak
staircase
,
where
Sir
Leicester
pauses
for
her
as
her
knightly
escort
.
A
staring
old
Dedlock
in
a
panel
,
as
large
as
life
and
as
dull
,
looks
as
if
he
didn
’
t
know
what
to
make
of
it
,
which
was
probably
his
general
state
of
mind
in
the
days
of
Queen
Elizabeth
.
That
evening
,
in
the
housekeeper
’
s
room
,
Rosa
can
do
nothing
but
murmur
Lady
Dedlock
’
s
praises
.
She
is
so
affable
,
so
graceful
,
so
beautiful
,
so
elegant
;
has
such
a
sweet
voice
and
such
a
thrilling
touch
that
Rosa
can
feel
it
yet
!
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
confirms
all
this
,
not
without
personal
pride
,
reserving
only
the
one
point
of
affability
.
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
is
not
quite
sure
as
to
that
.
Heaven
forbid
that
she
should
say
a
syllable
in
dispraise
of
any
member
of
that
excellent
family
,
above
all
,
of
my
Lady
,
whom
the
whole
world
admires
;
but
if
my
Lady
would
only
be
"
a
little
more
free
,
"
not
quite
so
cold
and
distant
,
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
thinks
she
would
be
more
affable
.
"
’
Tis
almost
a
pity
,
"
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
adds
—
only
"
almost
"
because
it
borders
on
impiety
to
suppose
that
anything
could
be
better
than
it
is
,
in
such
an
express
dispensation
as
the
Dedlock
affairs
—
"
that
my
Lady
has
no
family
.
If
she
had
had
a
daughter
now
,
a
grown
young
lady
,
to
interest
her
,
I
think
she
would
have
had
the
only
kind
of
excellence
she
wants
.
"
"
Might
not
that
have
made
her
still
more
proud
,
grandmother
?
"
says
Watt
,
who
has
been
home
and
come
back
again
,
he
is
such
a
good
grandson
.
"
More
and
most
,
my
dear
,
"
returns
the
housekeeper
with
dignity
,
"
are
words
it
’
s
not
my
place
to
use
—
nor
so
much
as
to
hear
—
applied
to
any
drawback
on
my
Lady
.
"
"
I
beg
your
pardon
,
grandmother
.
But
she
is
proud
,
is
she
not
?
"
"
If
she
is
,
she
has
reason
to
be
.
The
Dedlock
family
have
always
reason
to
be
.
"
"
Well
,
"
says
Watt
,
"
it
’
s
to
be
hoped
they
line
out
of
their
prayer
-
books
a
certain
passage
for
the
common
people
about
pride
and
vainglory
.
Forgive
me
,
grandmother
!
Only
a
joke
!
"
"
Sir
Leicester
and
Lady
Dedlock
,
my
dear
,
are
not
fit
subjects
for
joking
.
"
"
Sir
Leicester
is
no
joke
by
any
means
,
"
says
Watt
,
"
and
I
humbly
ask
his
pardon
.
I
suppose
,
grandmother
,
that
even
with
the
family
and
their
guests
down
here
,
there
is
no
objection
to
my
prolonging
my
stay
at
the
Dedlock
Arms
for
a
day
or
two
,
as
any
other
traveller
might
?
"
"
Surely
,
none
in
the
world
,
child
.
"
"
I
am
glad
of
that
,
"
says
Watt
,
"
because
I
have
an
inexpressible
desire
to
extend
my
knowledge
of
this
beautiful
neighbourhood
.
"
He
happens
to
glance
at
Rosa
,
who
looks
down
and
is
very
shy
indeed
.
But
according
to
the
old
superstition
,
it
should
be
Rosa
’
s
ears
that
burn
,
and
not
her
fresh
bright
cheeks
,
for
my
Lady
’
s
maid
is
holding
forth
about
her
at
this
moment
with
surpassing
energy
.
My
Lady
’
s
maid
is
a
Frenchwoman
of
two
and
thirty
,
from
somewhere
in
the
southern
country
about
Avignon
and
Marseilles
,
a
large
-
eyed
brown
woman
with
black
hair
who
would
be
handsome
but
for
a
certain
feline
mouth
and
general
uncomfortable
tightness
of
face
,
rendering
the
jaws
too
eager
and
the
skull
too
prominent
.
There
is
something
indefinably
keen
and
wan
about
her
anatomy
,
and
she
has
a
watchful
way
of
looking
out
of
the
corners
of
her
eyes
without
turning
her
head
which
could
be
pleasantly
dispensed
with
,
especially
when
she
is
in
an
ill
humour
and
near
knives
.
Through
all
the
good
taste
of
her
dress
and
little
adornments
,
these
objections
so
express
themselves
that
she
seems
to
go
about
like
a
very
neat
she
-
wolf
imperfectly
tamed
.
Besides
being
accomplished
in
all
the
knowledge
appertaining
to
her
post
,
she
is
almost
an
Englishwoman
in
her
acquaintance
with
the
language
;
consequently
,
she
is
in
no
want
of
words
to
shower
upon
Rosa
for
having
attracted
my
Lady
’
s
attention
,
and
she
pours
them
out
with
such
grim
ridicule
as
she
sits
at
dinner
that
her
companion
,
the
affectionate
man
,
is
rather
relieved
when
she
arrives
at
the
spoon
stage
of
that
performance
.
Ha
,
ha
,
ha
!
She
,
Hortense
,
been
in
my
Lady
’
s
service
since
five
years
and
always
kept
at
the
distance
,
and
this
doll
,
this
puppet
,
caressed
—
absolutely
caressed
—
by
my
Lady
on
the
moment
of
her
arriving
at
the
house
!
Ha
,
ha
,
ha
!
"
And
do
you
know
how
pretty
you
are
,
child
?
"
"
No
,
my
Lady
.
"
You
are
right
there
!
"
And
how
old
are
you
,
child
!
And
take
care
they
do
not
spoil
you
by
flattery
,
child
!
"
Oh
,
how
droll
!
It
is
the
BEST
thing
altogether
.
In
short
,
it
is
such
an
admirable
thing
that
Mademoiselle
Hortense
can
’
t
forget
it
;
but
at
meals
for
days
afterwards
,
even
among
her
countrywomen
and
others
attached
in
like
capacity
to
the
troop
of
visitors
,
relapses
into
silent
enjoyment
of
the
joke
—
an
enjoyment
expressed
,
in
her
own
convivial
manner
,
by
an
additional
tightness
of
face
,
thin
elongation
of
compressed
lips
,
and
sidewise
look
,
which
intense
appreciation
of
humour
is
frequently
reflected
in
my
Lady
’
s
mirrors
when
my
Lady
is
not
among
them
.
All
the
mirrors
in
the
house
are
brought
into
action
now
,
many
of
them
after
a
long
blank
.
They
reflect
handsome
faces
,
simpering
faces
,
youthful
faces
,
faces
of
threescore
and
ten
that
will
not
submit
to
be
old
;
the
entire
collection
of
faces
that
have
come
to
pass
a
January
week
or
two
at
Chesney
Wold
,
and
which
the
fashionable
intelligence
,
a
mighty
hunter
before
the
Lord
,
hunts
with
a
keen
scent
,
from
their
breaking
cover
at
the
Court
of
St
.
James
’
s
to
their
being
run
down
to
death
.
The
place
in
Lincolnshire
is
all
alive
.
By
day
guns
and
voices
are
heard
ringing
in
the
woods
,
horsemen
and
carriages
enliven
the
park
roads
,
servants
and
hangers
-
on
pervade
the
village
and
the
Dedlock
Arms
.
Seen
by
night
from
distant
openings
in
the
trees
,
the
row
of
windows
in
the
long
drawing
-
room
,
where
my
Lady
’
s
picture
hangs
over
the
great
chimney
-
piece
,
is
like
a
row
of
jewels
set
in
a
black
frame
.
On
Sunday
the
chill
little
church
is
almost
warmed
by
so
much
gallant
company
,
and
the
general
flavour
of
the
Dedlock
dust
is
quenched
in
delicate
perfumes
.
The
brilliant
and
distinguished
circle
comprehends
within
it
no
contracted
amount
of
education
,
sense
,
courage
,
honour
,
beauty
,
and
virtue
.
Yet
there
is
something
a
little
wrong
about
it
in
despite
of
its
immense
advantages
.
What
can
it
be
?
Dandyism
?
There
is
no
King
George
the
Fourth
now
(
more
the
pity
)
to
set
the
dandy
fashion
;
there
are
no
clear
-
starched
jack
-
towel
neckcloths
,
no
short
-
waisted
coats
,
no
false
calves
,
no
stays
.
There
are
no
caricatures
,
now
,
of
effeminate
exquisites
so
arrayed
,
swooning
in
opera
boxes
with
excess
of
delight
and
being
revived
by
other
dainty
creatures
poking
long
-
necked
scent
-
bottles
at
their
noses
.
There
is
no
beau
whom
it
takes
four
men
at
once
to
shake
into
his
buckskins
,
or
who
goes
to
see
all
the
executions
,
or
who
is
troubled
with
the
self
-
reproach
of
having
once
consumed
a
pea
.
But
is
there
dandyism
in
the
brilliant
and
distinguished
circle
notwithstanding
,
dandyism
of
a
more
mischievous
sort
,
that
has
got
below
the
surface
and
is
doing
less
harmless
things
than
jack
-
towelling
itself
and
stopping
its
own
digestion
,
to
which
no
rational
person
need
particularly
object
?
Why
,
yes
.
It
cannot
be
disguised
.
There
ARE
at
Chesney
Wold
this
January
week
some
ladies
and
gentlemen
of
the
newest
fashion
,
who
have
set
up
a
dandyism
—
in
religion
,
for
instance
.
