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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Why not buffle the whole company, my lord?" said Masaroon, while Mr. Dubbin talked apart with Lady Euphemia, who had come from the other end of the barge to warn her husband against excess in Rhenish or Burgundy. "You are good at disguises. Why not act the ghost and frighten everybody out of their senses?" "Il n'y a pas de quoi, Ralph. The creatures have no sense to be robbed of.
It sold oranges in the pit, folks tell me, a year ago. It may be selling sinecures and captaincies in a year or two, and putting another shilling in the pound upon land." "Is it that brazen little comedy actress you are talking of, Masaroon?"
"A pity," murmured Masaroon, "there is nothing prettier than the salute a la Francaise." Dangerfield handed the men their swords. They were nearly similar in fashion, both flat-grooved blades, with needle points, and no cutting edge, furnished with shell-guards and cross-bars in the Italian style, and were about of a length.
One of Lady Sarah's parties took place at full moon, not long after the visit to Deptford, and Lord Fareham's barge was again employed, this time on a nocturnal expedition up the river to the fields near the haunted Abbey, to carry Hyacinth, her sister, De Malfort, Lord Rochester, Sir Ralph Masaroon, Sir Denzil Warner, and a bevy of wits and beauties beauties who had, some of them, been carrying on the beauty-business and trading in eyes and complexion for more than one decade, and who loved that night season when paint might be laid on thicker than in the glare of day.
"None of your French to show your fine breeding!" growled the old cavalier. "Fareham, you deserved the insult; but one red will wash out another. I'm with your lordship." "And I'm with De Malfort," said Masaroon. "He had more than enough provocation." "Gentlemen, gentlemen, no bloodshed!" cried Lady Lucretia; "or, if you are going to be uncivil to each other, for God's sake get me to my chair.
The secret of the encounter had been faithfully kept by principals and seconds, De Malfort behaving with a chivalrous generosity. He appeared, indeed, as anxious for his antagonist's safety as for his own recovery. "It was a mistake," he said, when Masaroon pressed him with home questions. "Every man is mad once in his life. Fareham's madness took an angry turn against an old friend.
There was a chorus of courteous bewailing at the notion of Mrs. Kirkland's departure. Sir Ralph Masaroon pretended to be in despair. "Is it not bad enough to have had the coldest winter my youth can remember? But you must needs take the sun from our spring. Why, the maids of honour will count for handsome when you are gone. What's that Butler says?
Other of Lady Fareham's particular friends were expected Sir Ralph Masaroon, Lady Lucretia Topham, and more of the same kidney; and even the volatile Rochester had deigned to express an interest in the case. "The man was mistaken in his metier," he had told Lady Sarah, when the scandal was discussed in her drawing-room. "The role of seducer was not within his means.
It was his landlord who had stuck up that notice of a sale by auction. Tailors and shoemakers, perruquiers and perfumers were bewailing his flight. So much for the sordid side of things. But what of those numerous affairs of the heart those entanglements which had made his life one long intrigue? Lady Sarah sat simpering and nodding as Masaroon whispered close in her ear. Barbara?
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