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Updated: May 8, 2025
He always talked French, as a middle course between Italian and English, and Edith spoke her own language to him. 'Elle. La Mere Frabelle, he laughed to himself. 'Elle est folle de ton mari! 'Oh, really, Landi! That's your fancy! He mimicked her. 'Farncy! Farncy! Je me suis monte l'imagination, peut-etre! J'ai un rien de fievre, sans doute! C'est une idee que j'ai, comme ca. Eh bien! Non!
Edith and Madame Frabelle had long talks next day over the little dinner-party, and the people of their intimate circle whom she had met. She was delighted with Landi, though a little frightened of him, as most people were when they first knew him, unless he really liked them immensely. She impressed on Edith to beware of Mr. Mitchell.
Edith found the original letter of introduction, after some searching, and wrote to Lady Conroy to say that she understood Madame Frabelle, who was no connection of hers, was a clever, interesting woman, who wished to study English life in her native land. 'The Mitchells, for instance, suggested Bruce. 'Yes, that's a good idea. "She knows the Mitchells very well," Edith went on writing.
The advantage of having something to do with her hands while she spoke was too great a one not to be taken advantage of. So Madame Frabelle said: 'Edith dear. 'Yes? 'I've been wanting to say something to you. Edith leant forward, putting her elbows on her knees and her face on her hands, and said: 'Oh, do tell me, Eglantine. What is it?
'Oh yes. I remember. I'm looking forward to it, graciously said Madame Frabelle. 'It's a pity your husband can't come, isn't it? Ah, you naughty girl, I don't believe you think so! Madame Frabelle, archly shook her finger at Edith. 'Eglantine, have you really seriously talked yourself into thinking that Mr Mitchell is anything to me?
'The east coast is quite as safe as any other part of England, I think. said Madame Frabelle. 'Oh, he'll take his chance, Edith replied. 'I expect he'll miss you, my dear, said Bruce. 'You've been so jolly good to him lately. 'Naturally, said Madame Frabelle, a little quickly, very smoothly, and with what Edith thought unnecessary tact. 'Naturally.
As they went out of the house Miss Coniston ran after Madame Frabelle and said eagerly: 'Oh, do tell me again; you say soupe a la vinaigre is marvellously nourishing and economical. I can have it made for my brother at our flat? 'Of course you can! It costs next to nothing. Arthur Coniston came up. 'And tastes like nothing on earth, I suppose? he grumbled in his sister's ear.
'Madame Frabelle is not a foreigner. 'I never said she was. But her husband was. He used to get into frightful rages with her sometimes. She says he was a noble fellow. She liked him awfully, but she says he never understood her. Do you suppose she talked English to him? 'That's enough, Archie. Go and find something to do. As he went out he turned round again and said: 'Does father like her?
'It seems to me very unsuited to Chesterton's work! Olive-green, with twirly things on it! 'I thought it rather artistic, answered Madame Frabelle. 'It looks like macaroni, or spaghetti. Perhaps the idea was suggested by your showing her how to cook it, said Edith, laughing. Madame Frabelle looked gravely serene. 'No I don't think that had anything to do with it.
He drank it, that's what he did, and that's what I'm going to do. Eg Madame Frabelle would go straight down into the kitchen and show you how to make it if you like. 'I don't mind, if cook doesn't, said Edith. 'Oh, we'll see about that. Anyway she's going to show me how to get it made. 'Then there's another thing Madame Frabelle suggested.
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