I told him that he had suits enough to last him ten years, for I was never one that hungered after old coats; but he was not to be put off that way.
"’Tis true enough," said he, "yet I doubt the shape of them entirely. There's great folk to meet—the Duc de Marmontel, he's coming"
"Oh," said I, "is that the one they wouldn't have at the Jockey Club last year?"
"The same," said he, "and a rare devil for the play, they tell me. Then there's Prince Paul, the Russian; and Lord Beyton, son of the Earl of Lomond, you'll remember. Bedad! it's pleasant company altogether, though a man would do well not to finger the cards with them."
"You're right there, sir," said I, "though I don't doubt there will be cards in Brittany."
"Not at all," said he; "she'll have nothing to do with them. Her brother, the Comte de Faugère, told me so yesterday. They say that he's going for the Church, though I have my doubts. Ye must remember that she herself is the widow of an artist, and fond of gay folk. I make sure she'll amuse us finely."
There was no good arguing with him, for he was set upon it, and, to cut a long story short, we were in Brittany and at madame's château on the following Tuesday morning. I said at once that a prettier place never was; nor one with such green hills and sweeping forests. Mile after mile we drove from the station through woods which man never seemed to
