le Commissaire--for the entertainment he affords us."
Dorothea looked up sharply now, even anxiously; but her brother took
the shot, if shot it were, for a compliment. He put the awkward idiom
aside with a gracious wave of the hand. His brow cleared.
"But we must do something for these poor fellows," he announced,--
sweeping all the work-men in a gaze; "in mere gratitude we must. A
stall, now, at the end of the room under the gallery, with one or two
salesmen whom you must recommend to me, General. We might dispose of
quite a number of their small carvings and _articles de Paris_, with
which the market among the townspeople is decidedly overstocked. The
company on Wednesday will be less familiar with them: they will serve
as mementoes, and the prices, I daresay, will not be too closely
considered."
"Sir, I beg of you--" General Rochambeau expostulated.
"Eh?"
"They have given their labour--such as it is--in pure gratitude for
the kindness shown to them by all in Axcester. That has been the whole
meaning of our small enterprise," the old gentleman persisted.
"Still, I don't suppose they'll object if it brings a little beef to
their _ragouts_. Say no more, say no more. What have we here? Eh?
'Bacchus and Ariadne'? I am rusty in my classics, but Bacchus,
Dorothea! This will please Narcissus. We have in our house, sir,"--
here he addressed Raoul,--"a Roman pavement entirely--ah--concerned
with that personage.
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