enfants. My children, do not derange yourselves. Sir, you have insulted me; you have insulted my society. You shall answer me. Monsieur! vous allez me rendre raison!"
Thus speaking, the dancing-master, for such was the foreign gentleman whose professional avocations the parlour-lodger had interrupted, made his appearance at the head of the stairs, with a small fiddle under his arm and a sheathed rapier in his hand; the passage below was quite dark, but the light from an open door behind him brought his figure into relief, whilst the skipper, on the contrary, remained unseen in the gloom. Notwithstanding that the one was in a towering passion, the other shook with suppressed laughter.
"Come on," he shouted roughly, though he could scarce command his voice, adding in a more natural tone, and with a perfect French accent—"On prétend, dans les Mousquetaires du Roi, que Monsieur est de la première force pour l'epée!"
The effect was instantaneous. With one spring the dancing-master was upon him, kissing both his cheeks, hugging him in his arms, and repeating, with eyes full of tears—
"Captain George! Captain George! My comrade, my captain, my officer; and I thought I was without a friend in this miserable country; without a friend and without a sou! Now I have found the one, I don't care about the other. Oh, what happiness! What fortune! What luck!"
The former Captain of Musketeers seemed equally pleased, if in a less demonstrative manner, at this unexpected meeting, though he had been better prepared for so strange a termination of their dispute by his recognition of the other's voice before he caught sight of his figure. Now he pulled him into the parlour, sent for Butter-faced Bob to fill the capacious punch-bowl, pressed him into a chair with both hands on his shoulders, and looked gravely into his face, saying—
"Eugène, I owe you my life, and I am a man who never left a debt unpaid."
