"The Chevalier was waiting two hours for you." Roxalanne coloured to the roots of her hair.

The Vicomte frowned.
"Waiting for me, my mother?
But why for me ?" "Answer my question--where have you been ?" "I was with Monsieur de Lesperon," she answered simply.
"Alone ?" the Vicomtesse almost shrieked.
"But yes." The poor child's tones were laden with wonder at this catechism.
"God's death!" she snapped.

"It seems that my daughter is no better than--" Heaven knows what may have been coming, for she had the most virulent, scandalous tongue that I have ever known in a woman's head--which is much for one who has lived at Court to say.

But the Vicomte, sharing my fears, perhaps, and wishing to spare the child's ears, interposed quickly "Come, madame, what airs are these?
What sudden assumption of graces that we do not affect?
We are not in Paris.

This is not the Luxembourg.