"I do not like his smile," she added in a whisper.
"La, my dear, it means nothing; it comes natural to a Frenchman. He looks
quite genteel, you must confess; I should not be surprised if he were a
somebody in his own land."
As if in response to the implied question, the man moved to her side,
and, in a manner of great deference, said:
"Your jamadar named you to me, Madam; I feel that I ought to explain who
I am. My name is Jacques de Bonnefon--a name, I may say it without
boasting, once even better known at the court of his Majesty, King Louis
the Fifteenth, than in Chandernagore. Alas, Madam fortune is a fickle
jade. Here I am now, in Bengal, slowly retrieving by honest commerce a
patrimony of which my lamented father was not too careful."
"There! What did I say?" whispered Mrs. Merriman to her daughter as
Monsieur de Bonnefon went forward to meet them on the threshold of his
veranda. "A noble in misfortune! I only hope his wife is presentable."
They entered the house and were shown into a room opening on the veranda.
"You will pardon my leaving you for a few moments, Mesdames," said their
obliging host. "I shall bring my wife to welcome you, and send to
Chandernagore for a boat."
With a bow he left them, closing the door behind him.
"Madame de Bonnefon was taken by surprise, I suppose," said Mrs.
Merriman, "and is making her toilet. The vanity of these French people,
my dear!"
Minutes passed. Evening was coming on apace; little light filtered
through the chiks.
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