dignity in order to screen your folly; whereas if you had but stopped,
one of your looks, or one of your pretty speeches--one of those you
can make so prettily when you are not pert--would have set everything
right, even if you had broken his arm."

"But, my dear uncle, it was your horse, not mine, that caused the
accident. I really think you can no longer ride; you are not so good a
horseman as you were last year.--But instead of talking nonsense----"

"Nonsense, by Gad! Is it nothing to be so impertinent to your uncle?"

"Ought we not to go on and inquire if the young man is hurt? He is
limping, uncle, only look!"

"No, he is running; I rated him soundly."

"Oh, yes, uncle; I know you there!"

"Stop," said the Count, pulling Emilie's horse by the bridle, "I do
not see the necessity of making advances to some shopkeeper who is
only too lucky to have been thrown down by a charming young lady, or
the commander of La Belle-Poule."

"Why do you think he is anything so common, my dear uncle? He seems to
me to have very fine manners."

"Every one has manners nowadays, my dear."

"No, uncle, not every one has the air and style which come of the
habit of frequenting drawing-rooms, and I am ready to lay a bet with