newly-married couple. Zenobia danced, if not exactly well, at least
gracefully; but the tailor, who had never put his legs to any other use
besides crossing them, cut such a ridiculous figure that the countess had
much ado to restrain her laughter. But in spite of that I led out Zenobia
for the next minuet, and the proud countess was obliged to dance with the
wretched tailor.

When the minuets stopped the square dances began, and refreshments were
liberally handed round. Confetti, a kind of sweetmeat, even better than
that made at Verdun, were very plentiful.

When we were just going I congratulated the husband and offered to bring
Zenobia home in my carriage, which he was pleased to style a very
honourable offer. I gave my hand to Zenobia, and helped her into the
carriage, and having told the coachman to go slowly I put her on my knee,
extinguisher fashion, and kept her there all the time. Zenobia was the
first to get down, and noticing that my breeches of grey velvet were
spoiled, I told her that I would be with her in a few minutes. In two
minutes I put on a pair of black satin breeches, and I rejoined the lady
before her husband came in. She asked what I had been doing, and on my
telling her that our exploits in the carriage had left very evident marks
on my trousers, she gave me a kiss, and thanked me for my forethought.

Before long the husband and his sister arrived. He thanked me, calling me
his gossip, and then noticing the change in my dress he asked me how I
had contrived to make the alteration so quickly.

"I went to my room, leaving your wife at your house, for which I beg your
pardon."

"Didn't you see that the gentleman had spilt a cup of coffee over his
handsome breeches?" said Zenobia.

"My dear wife," said the crafty tailor, "I don't see everything, nor is
it necessary that I should do so, but you should have accompanied the
gentleman to his room."

Then turning to me with a laugh, he asked me how I had enjoyed the
wedding.

"Immensely, and my friends have done the same; but you must let me pay
you, dear gossip, for what you spent over and above the twenty-four
sequins. You can tell me how much it is."

"Very little, a mere trifle; Zenobia shall bring you the bill."

I went home feeling vexed with myself for not having foreseen that the
rogue would notice my change of dress, and guess the reason. However, I
consoled myself with the thought that the tailor was no fool, and that it
was plain