The Argosy — page 209: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

192 The Burgomaster’s Daughter. 2 ‘“« Apparently, Mademoiselle Warenne has lost her way ?” “No, no,” returned Lucille; ‘I was looking for my father.” ‘¢ And I suppose Monsieur le Baron is helping you to find him,” said the other lady, with a Iftle laugh. ‘‘Pardon, madame,” said the Baron, with great politeness. “I have but this instant quitted the Burgomaster. He and I have been smoking together. Mademoiselle, will you allow me to conduct you to Monsieur Warenne; he has been asking for you.” He took off his hat with a low bow, and walked away still con- ducting Lucille by the hand. ‘ And your guests have been asking for you, monsieur,” said the elder lady, in a sharp voice. ‘‘My dear,” observed the other, ‘‘he told that falsehood very neatly. Upon my word, he is a gallant man, and a gentleman. As for the girl—psha !” Nothing could equal the contempt with which she broke off her sentence, and snapped her fingers in the air. After this it availed little that Lucille found her father placidly smoking beneath a large tree, and taking his arm, she returned thus to the company, with the Baron walking by the Burgomaster’ s side, expatiating loudly upon things in general. The dragons were not thus to be taken in. A girl—a respectable girl—had been positively left by herself for five minutes with—oh, horror!—a young man, handsome, agreeable, and above herself in rank! What was the world coming to? For the rest of that miserable féte-day, the women all looked grave when poor Lucille passed them, and the men smiled. | ‘©Oh, father, why did you leave me?” she said, as she clung, half crying, to his arm. ‘“My dear child, I did not leave thee. It was thou and the Baron who left me. I was admiring a fine ash—a singular ash— and, when I looked round, lo! you were both gone! And the Baron—what did he talk of, my pet?” : ‘‘T’ll tell you another time, father—not now.’ True to this promise, she related every an of the Baechts conversation to her father, on their return home; and the poor pompous Burgomaster rubbed his hands in immense delight, and thought of the intense pleasure he should feel in hearing Monsieur le Baron d’Harscamp address him meekly as ‘‘ Mon pére.” This. was his dream, while poor Lucille wetted her pillow with tears. . IIT, Many days passed by before the Burgomaster and his daughter ‘ heard any of the scandal whispered round their name, though poor Lucille /e/¢ it impalpably, even in the very air around her. During this time the Baron called nearly every day, smoke and Gom Teo o S.Gom