'Lady Knollys,' I answered.

'Lady Knollys--wat odd name! She is very young--is she not?'

'Past fifty, I think.'

'Hélas! She's vary old, then. Is she rich?'

'I don't know. She has a place in Derbyshire.'

'Derbyshire--that is one of your English counties, is it not?'

'Oh yes, Madame,' I answered, laughing. 'I have said it to you twice since
you came;' and I gabbled through the chief towns and rivers as catalogued
in my geography.

'Bah! to be sure--of course, cheaile. And is she your relation?'

'Papa's first cousin.'

'Won't you present-a me, pray?--I would so like!'

Madame had fallen into the English way of liking people with titles, as
perhaps foreigners would if titles implied the sort of power they do
generally with us.

'Certainly, Madame.'

'You will not forget?'