Lord Denningham might have been conscious of the simile.
"A moonlight rhapsody," he sneered. "But I fear, madam, your brother grows impatient."
"You will give me your hand to my coach, sir?" she asked of Michael.
Lord Denningham laughed shortly beneath his breath.
"The squire of dames is a pleasant role to fill--and a safe one," he observed with another sneer.
"Lord Denningham will find me ready enough to fill another, anon," he retorted.
The young nobleman toyed with a ribbon about his neck.
"A teacher of manners to blatant puppy-dogs."
"You forget, sir, that puppy-dogs bite sometimes, and I have heard that a Berrington is afraid of a cracked skin."
"It is dangerous to listen to too many tales, my lord."
The voices of both were rising higher, whilst Michael's eyes were ablaze at his adversary's last insult.
Swords half drawn and hotter words to follow were intercepted by Gabrielle herself.
"I have already requested the favour of your hand to my coach, Mr. Berrington," she said, with a calmness and severity which were, alas! betrayed by a tremulous catch in the young voice. "A--a lady does not ask a gentleman twice."
He bowed gravely, offering her his arm, which she took, demurely curtseying.
"We shall meet again, my lord," he muttered behind his hand to Lord Denningham.
"I have heard of a Berrington hiding behind a woman's petticoats before," he drawled aloud; but in a low tone, "I'll tell you the tale, sir, at my own leisure."
"Come, Michael," cried Gabrielle sharply; "my brother waits."
Lord Denningham, left alone to moonlight reflection, took snuff with a scowl. He had thought the winning of a country mouse like to be easy work, since past experience had told him that the worse a man is the more probable that he takes the fancy of an innocent maid.
Little Gabrielle Conyers evidently had other tastes; and my lord, half in love by reason of her flouting, swore tremendous oaths.
Thus he was found, later, by Marcel Trouet, whose business in life was to act as a political firebrand, but who did not find his good friends the English of the most inflammable material.
"We drink good healths in ze house," he observed, taking Denningham's arm familiarly. "Come, come. We drink well, we sing very well, but we do need your voice to lead the rest. They are sheep who bleat for ze shephaird."