er in Rome."

"She's an abominable woman, at any rate," said Mrs. Proudie.

"Insufferable," said the countess.

"She made her way into the palace once, before I knew anything about
her, and I cannot tell you how dreadfully indecent her conduct was."

"Was it?" said the delighted countess.

"Insufferable," said the prelatess.

"But why does she lie on a sofa?" asked Lady De Courcy.

"She has only one leg," replied Mrs. Proudie.

"Only one leg!" said Lady De Courcy, who felt to a certain degree
dissatisfied that the signora was thus incapacitated. "Was she born
so?"

"Oh, no," said Mrs. Proudie--and her ladyship felt some what
recomforted by the assurance--"she had two. But that Signor Neroni
beat her, I believe, till she was obliged to have one amputated. At
any rate, she entirely lost the use of it."

"Unfortunate creature!" said the countess, who herself knew something
of matrimonial trials.

"Yes," said Mrs. Proudie, "one would pity her in spite of her past
bad conduct, if she now knew how to behave herself. But she does not.
She is the most insolent creature I ever put my eyes on."

"Indeed she is," said Lady De Courcy.

"And her conduct with men is so abominable that she is not fit to be
admitted into any lady's drawing-room."

"Dear me!" said the countess, becoming again excited, happy and
merciless.

"You saw that man standing near her--the clergyman with the red hair?"

"Yes, yes."

"She has absolutely ruined that man. The bishop--or I should rather
take the blame on myself, for it was I--I brought him down from London
to Barchester. He is a tolerable preacher, an active young man, and I
therefore introduced him to the bishop. That woman, Lady De Courcy,
has got hold of him and has so disgraced him that I am forced to
require that he shall leave the palace; and I doubt very much whether
he won't lose his gown!"

"Why, what an idiot the man must be!" said the countess.

"You don't know the intriguing villainy of that woman," said Mrs.
Proudie, remembering her torn flounces.

"But you say she has only got one leg!"

"She is as full of mischief as tho' she had ten. Look at her eyes,
Lady De Courcy. Did you ever see such eyes in a decent woman's head?"

"Indeed, I never did, Mrs. Proudie."

"And her effrontery, and her voice! I quite pity her poor father, who
is really a good sort of man."

"Dr. Stanhope, isn't he?"

"Yes, Dr. Stanhope. He is one of our prebendaries--a good, quiet sor