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28 hinges of the door announced an arrival, and an old woman appeared bearing various kinds of food. She spread the table, and presently returned with two flasks of wine. She looked good-natured, and seemed civil; but the various attempts of Lady Mandeville to engage her in conversation were fruitless, as neither understood what the other said. The supper was laid, and for three. The old woman left the room; and a few moments after, a cavalier made his appearance. Nothing could be more picturesque than his entrance. A large cloak enveloped his tall figure—the heroes of the Cobourg might have studied its folds; a profusion of feathers waved from his slouched hat; and his black whiskers and mustaches finished the effect. He flung the cloak most melodramatically over his left arm—took off the plumed hat, whose white feathers swept the floor—shewed a pair of silver-mounted pistols, and a dark-blue doublet laced with crimson and gold, and a worked falling collar. Wallack himself could not have dressed the bandit better. He was tall—handsome, in the style of the sublime and sallow—and advanced to the table with an ease whose only fault was, that it was too elaborate.