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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Not unless the Nemesis that waits on woman's folly has been swifter of foot than common. I have no wife, Angela; and you have no sister that you will ever care to own. My Lady Fareham has crossed the narrow sea with her lover, Henri de Malfort her paramour always though I once thought him yours, and tried to kill him for your sake." "A runaway wife! Hyacinth! Great God!"
Hyacinth, disgusted at the dulness of the town, was for ordering her coaches and retiring to Chilton. "It is mortal dull at the Abbey," she said, "but at least we have the hawks, and breezy hills to ride over, instead of this sickly city atmosphere, which to my nostrils smells of the pestilence." Henri de Malfort argued against such a retreat. "It were a deliberate suicide," he said.
Papillon, who at ten years old, had skimmed the cream off all the simple pleasures, appointed herself her aunt's instructress in most things, and taught her to row, with some help from Lord Fareham, who was an expert waterman; and, at the same time, tried to teach her to despise the country, and all rustic pleasures, except hunting although in her inmost heart the minx preferred the liberty of Oxfordshire woods to the splendour of Fareham House, where she was cooped in a nursery with her gouvernante for the greater part of her time, and was only exhibited like a doll to her mother's fine company, or seated upon a cushion to tinkle a saraband and display her precocious talent on the guitar, which she played almost as badly as Lady Fareham herself, at whose feeble endeavours even the courteous De Malfort laughed.
Angela began, falteringly, leaving her embroidery frame and moving to the other side of the hearth, where she dropped on her knees by her ladyship's chair, and was almost swallowed up in the ample folds of her brocade train. "Is it not possible that Lord Fareham is pained to see you so much gayer and more familiar with Monsieur de Malfort than you ever are with him?"
Be sure Monsieur de Malfort is not the reprobate they would make him. You have known him nearly all your life. You know him too well to judge him by the idle talk of the town." "No, no; I have never known him. He has always worn a mask. He is as false as Satan. Don't talk to me don't kiss me, child. You have smeared my face horribly with your kisses and tears. Your pity drives me mad.
She came home in a coach-and-four nearly two hours ago, with Monsieur de Malfort; and I think they must have quarrelled. They bade each other good night so uncivilly; but he was more huffed than mother." "Where were you that you know so much?" "In the gallery. Did I not tell you I shouldn't be able to sleep?
De Malfort had been attached to her ladyship's party at Epsom, and at Tunbridge Wells. He had his own lodgings, but seldom occupied them, except in that period between four or five in the morning and two in the afternoon, which Rochester and he called night.
"That is an agreeable hallucination with which Englishwomen have ever consoled themselves for not being French," said De Malfort, who sat lolling against the marble balustrade, nursing the guitar on which he had been playing when Fareham interrupted their noontide idleness; "but your ladyship may be sure that London milliners are ever a twelvemonth in the rear of Paris fashions.
"Of two profligate brothers I prefer the bolder sinner," said Fareham. "Bigotry and debauchery are an ill mixture." "I doubt if his Majesty frets for the want of an heir," remarked De Malfort. "He is not a family man." "He is not a one family man, Count," answered Fareham. Fareham and De Malfort were both away on this January evening.
I know all your organ tones, from the tenor of your kindness to the bourdon of your displeasure. Do you think I am not glad to have you here safe and sound? Do you think I have not been miserable about you since I knew of your sickness? Monsieur de Malfort will tell you whether I have been unhappy or not." "Why, Malfort!
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