These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

‘You distress me. What think you of our English meats?’

Léon shook his head.

‘Terrible, Monseigneur. It is – it is barbare !’

The Duke laughed, and came to the table. At once Léon went to him, intending to stand behind his chair.

‘Child, you will observe that two places are laid. Seat yourself.’ He shook out his napkin, and picked up the carving-knife and fork. ‘Will you essay the duck?’

Léon sat down shyly.

‘Yes, please, Monseigneur.’ He was served, and began to eat, rather nervously, but daintily, as Avon saw.

‘So – so this is Dover,’ remarked Léon presently, in a politely conversational tone.

‘You are right, infant,’ replied his Grace. ‘This is Dover. You are pleased to approve?’

‘Yes, Monseigneur. It is queer to see everything English, but I like it. I should not like it if you were not here, of course.’

Avon poured some burgundy into his glass.

‘I fear you are a flatterer,’ he said severely.

Léon smiled.

‘No, Monseigneur. Did you remark the landlord?’

‘I know him well. What of him?’

‘He is so little, and so fat, with such a bright, bright nose! When he bowed to you, Monseigneur, I thought he would burst! It looked so droll!’ His eyes twinkled.

‘A horrible thought, my child. You would appear to have a slightly gruesome sense of humour.’

Léon gave a delighted chuckle.

‘Do you know, Monseigneur,’ he said, wrestling with a stubborn joint, ‘I had never seen the sea until yesterday! It is very wonderful, but just for a little while it made the inside of me go up and down. Like that.’ He described the motion with his hand.

‘My dear Léon! Really, I cannot have that topic discussed at meal time. You make me feel quite ill.’

‘Well, it made me feel ill, Monseigneur. But I was not sick. I shut my mouth very tightly –’

Avon picked up his fan and dealt Léon a smart rap with it across the knuckles.

‘Continue to keep it shut, infant, I beg of you.’

Léon rubbed his hand, looking at the Duke in aggrieved wonderment.

‘Yes, Monseigneur, but –’

‘And do not argue.’

‘No, Monseigneur. I was not going to argue. I only –’

‘My dear Léon, you are arguing now. I find you most wearisome.’

‘I was trying to explain, Monseigneur,’ said Léon, with great dignity.

‘Then please do not. Confine your energy to the duck.’