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Catherine: a Story by William Makepeace Thackeray
page 17 of 242 (07%)
compliment as a compliment, and smiled and simpered in return.

The poor thing had never before seen anybody so handsome, or so
finely dressed as the Count; and, in the simplicity of her coquetry,
allowed her satisfaction to be quite visible. Nothing could be more
clumsy than the gentleman's mode of complimenting her; but for this,
perhaps, his speeches were more effective than others more delicate
would have been; and though she said to each, "Oh, now, my Lord,"
and "La, Captain, how can you flatter one so?" and "Your honour's
laughing at me," and made such polite speeches as are used on these
occasions, it was manifest from the flutter and blush, and the grin
of satisfaction which lighted up the buxom features of the little
country beauty, that the Count's first operations had been highly
successful. When following up his attack, he produced from his neck
a small locket (which had been given him by a Dutch lady at the
Brill), and begged Miss Catherine to wear it for his sake, and
chucked her under the chin and called her his little rosebud, it was
pretty clear how things would go: anybody who could see the
expression of Mr. Brock's countenance at this event might judge of
the progress of the irresistible High-Dutch conqueror.

Being of a very vain communicative turn, our fair barmaid gave her
two companions, not only a pretty long account of herself, but of
many other persons in the village, whom she could perceive from the
window opposite to which she stood. "Yes, your honour," said she--
"my Lord, I mean; sixteen last March, though there's a many girl in
the village that at my age is quite chits. There's Polly Randall
now, that red-haired girl along with Thomas Curtis: she's seventeen
if she's a day, though he is the very first sweetheart she has had.
Well, as I am saying, I was bred up here in the village--father and
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