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Updated: May 8, 2025
It was Youghal's ambition or perhaps his hobby to infuse into the greyness of modern political life some of the colour of Disraelian dandyism, tempered with the correctness of Anglo-Saxon taste, and supplemented by the flashes of wit that were inherent from the Celtic strain in him. His success was only a half-measure.
With Indian languages and their variations, he was as completely at home as Miss Youghal's Sais; and, one may suppose, could have played the ROLE of a fakir as perfectly as he did that of a Mecca pilgrim. I asked him what his method was in learning a fresh language.
It was not Youghal's lack of political sagacity that had brought the momentary look of disapproval into Francesca's face.
That sais was Strickland, and he was in old Youghal's employ, attached to Miss Youghal's Arab. The poor fellow was suffering for an English smoke, and knew that whatever happened I should hold my tongue till the business was over. Later on, Mrs.
And she half sighed, as though she almost regretted that a previous matrimonial arrangement precluded her from entering into the competition on her own account. Francesca, under an assumption of languid interest, was watching Lady Caroline narrowly for some hint of suppressed knowledge of Youghal's courtship of Miss de Frey. "Whom are you marrying and giving in marriage?"
If we could only make rules as to how the bread-and-butter should be digested we should be quite happy." Elaine had been brought up to regard Parliaments as something to be treated with cheerful solemnity, like illness or family re-unions. Youghal's flippant disparagement of the career in which he was involved did not, however, jar on her susceptibilities.
The actual extent of Youghal's influence over the boy was of the slightest; Comus was quite capable of deriving encouragement to rash outlay and frivolous conversation from an anchorite or an East-end parson if he had been thrown into close companionship with such an individual.
There was a heavy spattering of loose earth, and a squelching of saddle-leather, as the Klopstock youth lumbered up to the rails and delivered himself of loud, cheerful greetings. Joyeuse laid his ears well back as the ungainly bay cob and his appropriately matched rider drew up beside him; his verdict was reflected and endorsed by the cold stare of Youghal's eyes.
The fact was that Comus, who had left off being a schoolboy and was now a social problem, had lately enrolled himself among the young politician's associates and admirers, and as the boy knew and cared nothing about politics, and merely copied Youghal's waistcoats, and, less successfully, his conversation, Francesca felt herself justified in deploring the intimacy.
Youghal, who was wrapped up in her servants, began talking at houses where she called of her paragon among saises the man who was never too busy to get up in the morning and pick flowers for the breakfast-table, and who blacked actually BLACKED the hoofs of his horse like a London coachman! The turnout of Miss Youghal's Arab was a wonder and a delight.
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