The Argosy — page 249: what you’re looking at

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

lJ 23 MAISON MALOUNIE, Ae RETTY? No; but gentille. Figure to yourself une blonde Mees; and hair, ah! a nymph, undulated, sparkling, golden, magnificent !” ‘* But not pretty e” ‘Well, scarcely perhaps; but a voice! Ah! not a little filet de volx, but a voice like a silver bell—clear, sympathetic.” ‘Shall I like ‘la blonde Mees’ ?” ‘Like her, yes; love her, no: for she has no fortune.” So far I had heard—overheard; let me avow my dishonourable action. But I was ‘‘la blonde Mees,” and it was too tempting an oppor- tunity! ‘The window was open; I was outside, lazily enjoying a. dreamy siesta in the rose bower, when I heard the murmur of voices. My godmother was talking of me; and the deep, pleasant voice asking sO many questions about my insignificant self was no other than her august nephew, the son of her only sister, who had married an English- man—her favourite, Horace Vernon. ‘No fortune indeed,” I re- peated, softly, and then, clear as‘a bell, I struck up the old song : ‘My face is my fortune, sir, she said, Sir, she said, sir, she said.”’ Over and over again, with every variety of intonation, I sang the words. Suddenly I ceased. Instinctively I felt he was nearing the window and meditating a descent in search of the singer. Hastily I fled ; fear lent wings to my feet ; blindly I made a dash at the clipped yew hedge and its labyrinthine paths, when suddenly I stumbled, and should have fallen but for the arms hospitably outstretched to save me. Recovering myself quickly I drew back with hasty dignity and exclaimed in my best French, ‘“‘ Monsieur !” He bowed. ‘‘ Mademoiselle, are you hurt?” he said, managing to infuse much tender solicitude into the few words. ‘Then, with a quick look at me, before I could answer, he added: ‘‘ Let me introduce myself. I am Horace Vernon; and you must be Miss Eugénie Everard. I have been hearing all about you from my aunt.” I bowed and coloured vividly. ‘‘ Yes! ‘La blonde Mees,’” I could not help retorting, with a smile. ‘“ Ah! you overheard us?” he cried, with a ludicrous expression of dismay. Anger and the demon of coquetry prompted me there and then to take off my godmother, and I replied in her voice: “ Like her, yes; love her, no: for she has no fortune.” The next moment I felt awkward and confused, for I had hardly » realized the meaning of the words. Mr. Vernon laughed. Well,” he said, ‘“‘I promise.” Gomicbooks.Go m