e incident, a paragraph, headed "Lola
Again?" was published in the London papers:

Yesterday afternoon an extraordinary scene was witnessed by
the promenaders in the Champs Elysees. Two fashionably
attired ladies, driving in an elegant equipage, were heard
to be employing language that was anything but refined. From
words to blows, for suddenly they began to assault one
another with vigorous smacks. The toilettes and faces of the
fair contestants were soon damaged; and, loud cries of
distress being uttered, the carriage was stopped, and,
attracted by the fracas, some gentlemen hurried to render
assistance. As a result of their interference, one of the
damsels was expelled from the vehicle, and the other ordered
the coachman to drive her to her hotel. This second lady is
familiar to the public by reason of her adventures in
Bavaria.

Albert Vandam, a singularly objectionable type of journalist, who
professed to be on intimate terms with everybody in Paris worth
knowing, has a number of offensive and unjustifiable allusions to Lola
Montez at this period of her career. He talks of her "consummate
impudence," of her "pot-house wit," and of her "grammatical errors,"
and dubs her, among other things, "this almost illiterate schemer."

"Lola Montez," says the egregious Vandam, "could not make friends." He
was wrong. This was just what she could do. She made many staunch and
warm-hearted friends. It was because she snubbed him on account of his
pushfulness that Vandam elected to belittle her.

Lola Montez chose her friends for their disposition, not for their
virtue. One of them was George Sand, "the possessor of the largest
mind and the smallest foot in Paris." She also became intimate with
Alphonsine Plessis, and constantly visited the future "Lady of the
Camelias" in her _appartement_ on the Boulevard de la Madeleine.
Another _habitue_ there at this period was Lola's old Dresden flame,
the Abbe Liszt, who, not confining his attentions to the romanticists,
had no compunction about poaching on the preserves of Dumas _fils_,
or, for that matter, of anybody else. As for the fair, but frail,
Alphonsine, she said quite candidly that she was "perfectly willing to
become his mistress, if he wanted it, but was not prepared to share
the position." As Liszt had other ideas on the subject, the suggestion
came to nothing.

Some years afterwards, one of his pupil