And now lady Esmondet awakes to the present with a start (as the
carriage stops,) and from her silent thoughts on the past, as she had
gathered it from Eric Haughton and from Lionel himself.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHIC AUJOURD'HUI.
Captain Trevalyon assisted his friends to alight in front of a
handsome house in a fashionable avenue.
"Can this be the right address," said Lady Esmondet. "It is a private
residence _et regardez_, by the gas-light in the entrance one can see
the arms of a noble house cut in the stone."
"Yes," answered Trevalyon, "we are all right; a patrician mansion
knocked down by the hammer, now simply _numero troisieme_, Avenue de
l'Imperatrice, and if Bertram is as comfortable inside as he is
fashionable outside then we may expect turtle's livers _a la
Francaise_, the choicest of wines in this hot-bed of grapes, this land
of vineyards, dishes that would tickle the palate of a Lucullus, the
cosiest of after dinner chairs, French coffee, which means a good
deal, the brightest of fires, and faces, sweet notes of song," with a
glance at Vaura, "and the most delicate of cigarettes, so delicate as
not to entail the punishment of banishment from two ladies fair.
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