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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Do you think I would like a French fop always at my elbow as Monsieur de Malfort is ever at yours? I love hunting and hawking, and a man that can ride, and shoot, and row, and fight, like father or Sir Denzil Warner not a man who thinks more of his ribbons and periwig and cannon-sleeves than of killing his fox or flying his falcon." "Oh, you are beginning to have opinions!" sighed Hyacinth.
His companions were Sir Ralph Masaroon, Colonel Dangerfield, an old Malignant, who had hibernated during the Protectorate, and had never left his own country, and Lady Lucretia Topham, a visiting acquaintance of Hyacinth's. "Come here, Fareham," cried De Malfort; "there is plenty of room for you. I'll wager Lady Lucretia will pass you her hand, and thank you for taking it."
Henri de Malfort loved her, and she fed his passion with her sweetest smiles, the low and tender tones of the most musical voice Fareham had ever listened to.
Trained first by one of the greatest, and next by one of the subtlest statesmen the world has ever seen, the provincial woollen-draper's son has all the qualities needed to raise France to the pinnacle of fortune, if his master will but give him a free hand." "At any rate, he will make Jacques Bonhomme pay handsomely for his Majesty's new palaces and new loves," said De Malfort.
Her ladyship and De Malfort had always plenty to talk about. They had the past as well as the present for their discourse, and were always sighing for the vanished glories of their youth at Paris, at Fontainebleau, at St. Germain.
If you could give me a sleeping-draught that would blot out memory for ever make me forget my childhood in the Marais my youth at St. Germain the dances at the Louvre all the days when I was happiest: why, then, perhaps, you might make me in love with Lord Fareham." "You will begin a new life, sister, now De Malfort is gone." "I will never forgive him for going!" cried Hyacinth, passionately.
"Dear sister, I can understand your affection for an old friend, but I would not have you place him above your husband; least of all would I have his lordship suspect that you preferred the friend to the husband " "Suspect! Fareham! Are you afraid I shall make Fareham jealous, because I sing duets and cudgel these poor brains to make bouts rimes with De Malfort?
Hyacinth spent her days half in yawning and sighing, and half in idle laughter and childish games with Henriette and De Malfort. When she was gay she was as much a child as her daughter; when she was fretful and hipped, it was a childish discontent.
Ten minutes later Fareham and De Malfort were standing front to front in the glare of four torches, held by a brace of her ladyship's lackeys who had been impressed into the service, and the colder light of a moon that rode high in the blue-black of a wintry heaven.
"And yet he acted like a man who was madly jealous. His rudeness at the card-table was obvious malice afore-thought. He came resolved to quarrel." "Ay, he came to quarrel but not about his wife." Pressed to explain this dubious phrase, De Malfort affected a fit of languor, and would talk no more.
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