Mr. Welwyn was as ridiculously prejudiced
as most weak-headed Englishmen are, on the subject of foreigners
in general. In spite of his visit to Paris, the vulgar notion of
a Frenchman continued to be _his_ notion, both while he was in
France and when he returned from it. Now, the baron was as unlike
the traditional "Mounseer" of English songs, plays, and satires,
as a man could well be; and it was on account of this very
dissimilarity that Mr. Welwyn first took a violent fancy to him,
and then invited him to his house. Franval spoke English
remarkably well; wore neither beard, mustache, nor whiskers; kept
his hair cut almost unbecomingly short; dressed in the extreme of
plainness and modest good taste; talked
little in general society; uttered his words, when he did speak,
with singular calmness and deliberation; and, to crown all, had
the greater part of his acquired property invested in English
securities. In Mr. Welwyn's estimation, such a man as this was a
perfect miracle of a Frenchman, and he admired and encouraged him
accordingly.
I have said that I disliked him, yet could not assign a reason
for my dislike; and I can only repeat it now. He was remarkably
polite to me; we often rode together in hunting, and sat near
each other at the Grange table; but I could never become familiar
with him. He always gave me the idea of a man who had some mental
reservation in saying the most trifling thing.
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