"I was speaking neither of yourself nor the fair Belinda," replies Jacques, with melancholy gallantry.

"There! please have done with compliments--I detest them."

"You detest every thing insincere, I know, charming Philippa--pardon me, but your beautiful name betrays me constantly. Is it not--like your voice--stolen from poetry or music?"

"Ah, sir, you are insufferable."

"Pardon, pardon--but in this beautiful and fair season, so full of flowers----"

"You think it necessary to employ flowers of speech: that is what you were going to say, but for heaven's sake have done."

Jacques bows.

"I have just discarded the twentieth, Bel," she adds, laughing; "he got on his knees."

And Philippa laughs heartily.

Jacques is used to his companion's manner of talking, and says:

"Who was it, pray, madam--Mowbray?"

A flush pa.s.ses over Philippa's face, and she looks away, murmuring "No!"

"I won't go over the list of your admirers," continues Jacques, sadly, "they are too numerous; for who can wonder at such a fairy face as yours attracting crowds of lovers?"

"My fairy face? Yes, and my unhappy wealth, sir. I wish I was poor! I can never know when I am loved truly. Oh, to know that!"

And a shadow pa.s.ses over the face, obliterating the satire, and veiling the brilliant eyes. Then with an effort Philippa drives away her preoccupation, and says:

"I wish Heaven had made me a man!"

"A man?" says Jacques.

"Yes, sir."

"Pray why? Is there any young lady you would like to marry? Ah," he murmurs, "you need not go far if that is the case."

And he glances tenderly at Belle-bouche, who smiles and blushes.

"I wish to be a man, that my movements may not be restricted. There is my guardian, who murmurs at my travelling about from county to county with only Jugurtha to drive me--as if Jugurtha couldn't protect me if there were any highwaymen or robbers."

Jacques laughs.

"But there are disadvantages connected with manhood," he says. "You are ignorant of them, and so think them slight."

"The prominent ones, if you please."

"You would have to make love--the active instead of pa.s.sive, as at present."

"I would enjoy it."

"How would you commence, pray?"

"Oh, easily--see now. I would say,'My dear Bel! I am at your service!

If _you_ love _me_, _I'll_ love _you_!' And then with a low bow I would kiss her hand, and her lips too, if she would permit me."

Jacques sighs.

"Do you think that would succeed, however?" he says.

"I don't know, and I don't care--I'd try."

Jacques sighs again, and looks wistfully at Belle-bouche, who smiles.

"I'm afraid such a cavalier address--at the pistol's mouth as it were--at forty paces--like those highwaymen you spoke of but now--would only insure failure."

"You are mistaken."

"I doubt the propriety of such a 'making love.'"

"If I were a man, you would see my success. I'd have any woman for the asking."

"Well, fancy yourself a man."

"And who will be my lady-love?"

"Fancy my s.e.x changed also--make love to me, my charming Madam Philippa."

"Forsooth! But I could win your heart easily."

"How, pray," says Jacques, sighing, "granting first that 'tis in my possession?"

"By two simple things."

"To wit?"

"I would talk to you of flowers and shepherdesses, and crooks and garlands----"

"Oh!"

"And I would adopt, if I had not naturally, that frank, languid, graceful, fatal air which--which--shall I finish?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Which Bel has! What a beautiful blush!"

And Philippa claps her hands.

Jacques tries very hard not to color, thus forfeiting all his pretensions to the character of a self-possessed man of the world and elegant c.o.xcomb; but this is equally forlorn with his attempt not to observe the mischievous glance and satirical lip of the fair Philippa.