She paused to clasp a belt of silver brocade, fastened by a pearl
buckle, close around her little waist, and Sir Norman fixed his eyes
upon her beautiful face, with a powerful glance.
"Knew no one--that is strange, Leoline! Not even the Count L'Estrange?"
"Ah! you know him?" she cried eagerly, lifting her eyes with a bright
look; "do--do tell me who he is?"
"Upon my honor, my dear," said Sir Norman, considerably taken aback,
"it strikes me you are the person to answer that question. If I don't
greatly mistake, somebody told me you were going to marry him."
"Oh, so I was," said Leoline, with the utmost simplicity. "But I don't
know him, for all that; and more than that, Sir Norman, I do not believe
his name is Count L'Estrange, any more than mine in!"
"Precisely my opinion; but why, in the name of--no, I'll not swear; but
why were you going to marry him, Leoline?"
Leoline half pouted, and shrugged her pretty pink satin shoulders.
"Because I couldn't help it--that's why. He coaxed, and coaxed; and I
said no, and no, and no, until I got tired of it. Prudence, too, was as
bad as he was, until between them I got about distracted, and at last
consented to marry him to get rid of him."
"My poor, persecuted little darling! Oh," cried Sir Norman, with a burst
of enthusiasm, "how I should admire to have Count L'Estrange here for
about tea minutes, just now! I world spoil his next wooing for him, or I
am mistaken!"
"No, no!" said Leoline, looking rather alarmed; "you must not fight, you
know. I shouldn't at all like either of you to get killed. Besides, he
has not married me; and so there's no harm done."
Sir Norman seemed rather struck by that view of the case, and after a
few moments reflection on it, came to the conclusion that she knew best,
and settled down peaceably again.
"Why do you suppose his name is not Count L'Estrange?" he asked.
"For many reasons. First--he is disguised; wears false whiskers,
moustache, and wig, and even the voice he uses appears assumed. Then
Prudence seems in the greatest awe of him, and she is not one to be
easily awed. I never knew her to be in the slightest degree intimidated
by any human being but himself and that mysterious woman, La Masque.
"Ah! you know La Masque, then?"
"Not personally; but I have seen her as I did you, you remember,"
with an arch glance; "and, like you, being once seen, is not to be
forgotten."
Sir Norman promptly paid her for the compliment in Cupid's own coin: "Little flatterer! I can almost forgive Count L'Estrange for wanting
to marry you; for I presume he it only a man, and not quite equal to
impossibilities. How long is it since you knew him first?"