ind to appreciate her inimitable talent._

And again in the Letters of Charlotte, Lady Pardwicke, we read:--

_If Mrs. Parflete can be called handsome, it is certainly a _figure
de fantasie_. She has a clear complexion, is young, tall; her
manners are _doucereuses_, for, besides being a beauty, she has
pretensions, I understand, to _bel-esprit_. The majority of those
present were undeniably captivated by her peculiar fascination._

Augustus Barfield has the following remarks in his famous Journal:--

_There were no two opinions about the success of the _debutante_.
We had been led to expect a good deal, but fortunately every
description proved inaccurate, so, while she utterly failed to
realise any single preconceived idea, she had the great advantage
of appearing as some one wholly new. Rumour had prepared me equally
for a St. Elizabeth, a Mademoiselle Mars, a Marie-Antoinette, a
Recamier, or a Sophie Arnould. She resembled none of these
ladies--being far more tragic in her nature than the rather sensual
Queen of France, and she is clearly an uncommon individual in her
own right. The women will squabble about her looks; the men will
have views about her figure: all must agree that her fortune on the
stage is assured. A more pleasing performance I never saw. Love,
innocence, tenderness, grief, joy, petulance, uncertainty, modesty,
despair--every feminine attribute, in fact, showed to admiration in
her expressive features. Voice, bewitching. Gestures, exquisite.
All, in fact, was truly enjoyable. I would not have missed the
evening on any account._

Orange, it is true, had not joined the general company. But Prince
d'Alchingen for reasons of his own, however, had offered the young man a
seat in the one small box which had a gilded _grille_ before it and was
so made that it seemed part of the massive decoration.

"You cannot be seen," said the Prince; "I won't tell her that you are
present; and I give you my word of honour that I won't tell anybody--not
even my wife."

The temptation was irresistible. Robert accepted the invitation, and as
he watched the play, it seemed to him that he had never known Brigit
till that evening. He had seen her in dreams--yes; and talked to her in
dreams, yes; but now at last she lived--a real creature. Lost in the
part, she was able to throw aside the self-restraint which had