Lessons in French

He'd forgot about her until this morning, and that her name was also Malempré-a silly oversight that a

The CERTIFIED Measurements of the Celebrated

BELGIAN BULL of Malempré! Freshly Arrived

in England, to Tour the Entire Country! The

PRIZE offered to Any BULL of Any Breed that

can be Proven GREATER in All Dimensions! 500

GUINEAS and a Silver Salver with the NAME of

the Wi

He had made sure that Colonel Davenport would be absent for the formal a

Trev had at first felt a twinge of guilt over leading Davenport a dance, but then he'd thought of how the fellow had taken Callie's bull and refused to sell it back for an honest price. When he remembered her tearstained cheeks hidden under the bo

"Something is amiss, Monsieur?" Callie asked in a worried tone, gamely keeping to French as she looked up sideways at him through the netting.

Trev realized that he was scowling, and softened his expression. "I beg your pardon," he replied, smiling down at her. "I was meditating on the shocking cost of pastries in this town."

"I understand you," she said with feeling. "Mrs. Farr would take to her smelling salts if she knew."

"We must pray that my bank will stand against the strain. But we have an hour or two before we issue our a

"I would rather look at the animals," she said. She spoke very pretty French, he thought, when she would venture to do so. It made him want to kiss her, to brush his mouth against her lips while she formed the words. "Would it be possible?"

"Certainly. Whatever would please you the best, ma chérie." He f lourished his cane and pointed as they turned the corner to the wide street that was filling rapidly with all ma

"Do you make a study of pigs, Monsieur?" she asked, with a muff led note of amusement.

"Of course. I've observed them frequently on my breakfast plate." They had neared the first of the pens, where a stockman was lovingly bathing the ears of an enormously fat spotted sow. Five piglets squealed and gurgled about her panting bulk. "Note the marvelous coil of the tail." He gestured with his cane. "Absolute perfection!"

"And those ears," Callie said, nodding sagely. "She appears to have two!"

"Four legs," Trev added, cataloging all her points.

"Are you certain she has legs?" Callie asked dubi ously. "I don't see any."

"They are hidden under her porcine vastness," he informed her. He tilted his head speculatively as they reached the pen. "Unless she has wheels. Perhaps she rolls from place to place?"

The handler glanced up, startled to hear a language not his own. Seeing a fashionable lady and gentleman observing him, he straightened up and pulled his forelock, red-faced.

"An animal par excellence," Trev said in thickly accented English as he indicated the pig with an approving nod. He reached inside his coat and drew forth one of the printed broadsides. "Myself, I have a bull."

The stockman took the bill and perused it with a serious air. He seemed to read it, though Trev had made sure there were numerals in addition to words, for the edification of the illiterate. A working man might not have book learning, but the number of guineas was something that anyone would compre hend. "Looks to be a dead gun, sir," the stockman said politely.

Trev was well aware of the local vernacular, but he affected surprise. "Dead? No, he is alive, very much, I assure you!"

"Aw, no sir, I mean to say, he looks a dead good 'un, sir. Them's his length and breadth, in'net?"

"And five hundred gold, you see there," Trev pointed out, "to say there is none to match him."

The stockman gri

"Indeed!" Trev said. "But I must see this animal. Who belongs to him?"

"Colonel Davenport has him now, but 'tis his late lordship's bull. The Earl of Shelford, sir. They call him Hubert."

"Ah yes." Trev nodded wisely. "Of this bull I have had a great description. With red and black-how do you say this-the spots-ah, mottles, eh? Hubert." He gave it the French pronunciation, "Oo-bear". "I long to see him!"

"You'll see him, sir. Can't miss him, can you? He's the size of a house."

Trev turned to Callie and said in rapid French, "Good. Better to raise the challenge first, before they all learn he's gone missing." He patted her arm and reverted to English again. "And what do you think of this lovely pig, Madame?"

"A peeg of the first merit," she said obligingly, with such an earnest copy of his overwrought enunciation that Trev found it difficult to keep a straight countenance.

"Indeed," he agreed. "Great good luck to you with this peeg, mon ami."

The stockman thanked Trev with a gruff acknowl edgment. They left him turning to his curious neighbor with the broadside stretched out in his hand. From there, Trev was quite certain, the word would spread. He had planted news of a bout often enough to know how quickly intelligence could travel.

"But deplorably fat," Callie murmured as they walked away. "I ca

Trev nodded gravely. "I thought I smelled bacon burning."

She gave a gurgle of laughter under her veil but then added in a troubled tone, "It's not really a fu

He smiled. Only his Callie would champion the cause of leaner pigs for the greater good of pigdom. "I daresay they will be eager to know your view of the matter." He escorted her round a table where a woman was laying out molds of cheese in an artistic fashion.

"Of course they won't," she said wryly. "They will say that they are only pigs, and I am only a female- but pigs are most intelligent and feeling, I assure you. I taught one to play a wooden f lute once."

"A f lute!"

She nodded. "I secured it between a pair of fire dogs, and he soon learned that he could procure a bit of molasses if he made a note upon it. I stopped the holes for him, and he would play 'Baa Baa Black Sheep.'"