all I call it--national revenge on them? "I will take one of
your princesses," says you; and as soon as said done! I'm dying for a
sight of her portrait. Captain DeWitt declares her heavenly--I mean, he
says she is fair and nice, quite a lady-that of course! And never mind
her not being rich. You can do the decoration to the match. H'm,' she
perused my features; 'pale! Lovelorn? Excuse an old friend of your
father's. One of his very oldest, I'd say, if it didn't impugn. As such,
proud of your alliance. I am. I speak of it everywhere--everywhere.'

Here she dramatized the circulation of the gossip. 'Have you heard the
news? No, what? Fitz-George's son marries a princess of the German realm.
Indeed! True as gospel. And how soon? In a month; and now you will see
the dear, neglected man command the Court . . . .'

I looked at my father: I felt stifling with confusion and rage. He leant
over to her, imparting some ecstatic news about a great lady having
determined to call on her to regulate the affairs of an approaching grand
Ball, and under cover of this we escaped.

'If it were not,' said he, 'for the Chassediane--you are aware, Richie,
poor Jorian is lost to her?--he has fallen at her quicksilver feet. She
is now in London. Half the poor fellow's income expended in bouquets! Her
portrait, in the character of the widow Lefourbe, has become a part of
his dressing apparatus; he shaves fronting her playbill. His first real
affaire de coeur, and he is forty-five! So he is taken in the stomach.
That is why love is such a dangerous malady for middle age. As I said,
but for Jenny Chassediane, our Sampleman would be the fortune for Jorian.
I have hinted it on both sides. Women, Richie, are cleverer than the
illustrious Lord Nelson in not seeing what their inclinations decline to
see, and Jorian would do me any service in the world except that one. You
are restless, my son?'

I begged permission to quit the house, and wait for him outside. He, in
return, begged me most urgently to allow myself to be introduced to Lady
Edbury, the stepmother of Lord Destrier, now Marquis of Edbury; and,
using conversational pressure, he adjured me not to slight this lady,
adding, with more significance than the words conveyed, 'I am taking the
tide, Richie.' The tide took me, and I bowed to a lady of impressive
languor, pale and young, with pleasant manners, showing her character in
outline, like a glove on the hand, but little of its quality. She