THE UNSPEAKABLE GENTLEMAN
"The captain is thinking?' said Mademoiselle.
He smiled, and fixed her with his level glance.
"Indeed yes," he answered briskly. "It is a rudeness for which I can only crave your pardon. Strange that I should have tasted your father's hospitality so often and should still be a taciturn host."
Mademoiselle bit her lip.
"There is only one thing stranger," she said coldly.
"And that is—?" said my father, bending toward her attentively.
"That you should betray the last request of the man who once sheltered you and trusted you, and showed you every kindness. Tell me, captain, is it another display of artistic temperament, or simply a lack of breeding?"
Her words seemed to fall lightly on my father. He took a pinch of snuff, and waved his hand in an airy gesture of denial.
"Bah," he said. "If the Marquis were alive, he would understand. He was always an opportunist, the Marquis. 'Drink your wine,' he would say, 'drink your wine and break your glass. We may not have heads to drink it with tomorrow.' I am merely
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