The Abbe, who had a seat and a table by
the bedside, resumed the labours which had brought him into the room
in the morning, and busied himself with papers, which occasionally
he handed over to his superior for approval.
Presently Monsieur la Rose appeared.
"Here is a person with clothes from Mr. Beinkleider's. Will your
Excellency see him, or shall I bid him leave the clothes?"
The Count was very much fatigued by this time; he had signed three
papers, and read the first half-a-dozen lines of a pair of them.
"Bid the fellow come in, La Rose; and, hark ye, give me my wig: one
must show one's self to be a gentleman before these scoundrels."
And he therefore mounted a large chestnut-coloured, orange-scented
pyramid of horsehair, which was to awe the new-comer.
He was a lad of about seventeen, in a smart waistcoat and a blue
riband: our friend Tom Billings, indeed. He carried under his arm
the Count's destined breeches. He did not seem in the least awed,
however, by his Excellency's appearance, but looked at him with a
great degree of curiosity and boldness. In the same manner he
surveyed the chaplain, and then nodded to him with a kind look of
recognition.
"Where have I seen the lad?" said the father.
Pages:
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225