"Mercy on us! what have I said!" cried the attendant, greatly alarmed by the agitation of her mistress; "do sit down, your ladyship, while I run for the ratifia and rosa solis. They had heard nothing, seen nothing. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. "Is it you?" "It is," replied her son, "Oh! why would you not listen to me?" "I was distracted," replied Mrs. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. ‘Do not move, messieurs, or I shall be compelled to blow off your head.
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