"Hope, Anthony - Frivolous Cupid" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hope Anthony)

Switzerland, under the care of a dragon whom she had engaged to
keep me and other dangerous fellows at a proper distance. On
hearing of what had happened from George Fitzmoine (an intimate
friend of mine), I at once threw up my visits and started in
pursuit. I felt confident that Lady Mary was favorably inclined
(in fact, I had certain proofs which--but no matter), and that if
I won her heart I could break down the old lady's opposition. I
should certainly have succeeded in my enterprise, and been at
this moment the husband of one of the most beautiful girls in
England, but for a very curious and unfortunate circumstance,
which placed me in an unfavorable light in Mary's eyes. I was
not to blame; it was just a bit of bad luck.

"I ranged over most of Switzerland in search of Lady Mary.
Wherever I went I asked about her, and at last I got upon the
track. At Interlaken I found her name in the visitors' book,
together with that of a Miss Dibbs, whom I took to be the dragon.

I questioned the porter and found that the two ladies had, the
afternoon before, hired a carriage and driven to a quiet
little village some fifteen miles off, where there was a small
but good inn. Here they evidently meant to stay, for letters
were to be sent after them there for the next week. The place
was described to me as pretty and retired; it seemed, therefore,
an ideal spot for my purpose. I made up my mind at once. I
started the next day after luncheon, took the journey easily, and
came in sight of the little inn about seven o'clock in the
evening. All went well. The only question was as to the
disposition of Miss Dibbs toward me. I prayed that she might
turn out to be a romantic dragon; but, in case she should prove
obstinate, I made my approaches with all possible caution. When
my carriage stopped at the door I jumped out. The head waiter, a
big fellow in a white waistcoat, was on the steps. I drew him
aside, and took a ten-franc piece from my pocket.

"`Is there a young lady staying here?' I asked. `Tall, fair,
handsome?' and I slid the piece of gold into his palm.

"`Well, yes, sir,' he said, `there is a young lady, and she is
all that you say, sir. Pardon me, Monsieur is English?'

"`Yes,' said I.

"`Ah,' said he, smiling mysteriously. `And it is Wednesday.'

"`It is certainly Wednesday,' I admitted, though I did not see
that the day of the week mattered much.

"He came close to me and whispered: