But they were great lords and ladies, nevertheless, Dukes and
Duchesses and Countesses, come to England for fear of being
murdered by those devils in their own country. Richmond was full of
them just now, as they were made right welcome both at the Palace
and at the magnificent home of Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney.

Ah! here comes Sir Andrew Ffoulkes with his lady! so pretty and
dainty does she look, like a little china doll, in her new-fashioned
short-waisted gown: her brown hair in soft waves above her smooth
forehead, her great, hazel eyes fixed in unaffected admiration on the
gallant husband by her side.

"No wonder she dotes on him!" signed pretty Mistress Polly after she
had bobbed her curtsy to my lady. "The brave deeds he did for love
of her! Rescued her from those murderers over in France and brought
her to England safe and sound, having fought no end of them single-
handed, so I've beard it said. Have you not, Master Thomas Jezzard?"

And she looked defiantly at her meek-looking cavalier.

"Bah!" replied Master Thomas with quite unusual vehemence in
response to the disparaging look in her brown eyes, "'Tis not he who
did it all, as you well know, Mistress Polly. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes is a
gallant gentleman, you may take your Bible oath on that, but he that
fights the murdering frogeaters single-handed is he whom they call
The Scarlet Pimpernel: the bravest gentleman in all the world."

Then, as at mention of the national hero, he thought that he detected
in Mistress Polly's eyes an enthusiasm which he could not very well