. "Society's" repartees were then, as they are now, the good
old tree in various dresses and veils: _Tu quoque, tu mentiris, vos
damnemini;_ but he was sick and dispirited on the whole; such very
bright illusions had been dimmed in these few minutes.

She was brilliant; but her manners, if not masculine, were very daring;
and yet when she spoke to him, a stranger, how sweet and gentle her
voice was! Then it was clear nothing but his ignorance could have placed
her at the summit of her art.

Still he clung to his enthusiasm for her. He drew Pomander aside. "What
a simplicity there is in Mrs. Woffington!" said he; "the rest, male and
female, are all so affected; she is so fresh and natural. They are all
hot-house plants; she is a cowslip with the May dew on it."

"What you take for simplicity is her refined art," replied Sir Charles.

"No!" said Vane, "I never saw a more innocent creature!"

Pomander laughed in his face; this laugh disconcerted him more than
words; he spoke no more--he sat pensive. He was sorry he had come to
this place, where everybody knew his goddess; yet nobody admired, nobody
loved, and, alas! nobody respected her.

He was roused from his reverie by a noise; the noise was caused by
Cibber falling on Garrick, whom Pomander had maliciously quoted against
all the tragedians of Colley Cibber's day.

"I tell you," cried the veteran, "that this Garrick has banished dignity
from the stage and given us in exchange what you and he take for fire;
but it is smoke and vapor. His manner is little, like his person, it is
all fuss and bustle. This is his idea of a tragic scene: A little fellow
comes bustling in, goes bustling about, and runs bustling out." Here
Mr. Cibber left the room, to give greater effect to his description, but
presently returned in a mighty pother, saying: "'Give me another horse!'
Well, where's the horse? don't you see I'm waiting for him? 'Bind up my
wounds!' Look sharp now with these wounds. 'Have mercy, Heaven!' but
be quick about it, for the pit can't wait for Heaven. Bustle! bustle!
bustle!"

The old dog was so irresistibly funny that the whole company were
obliged to laugh; but in the midst of their merriment Mrs. Woffington's
voice was heard at the door.

"This way, madam."

A clear and somewhat shrill voice replied: "I know the way better than
you, child;" and a stately old lady appeared on the threshold.

"Bracegirdle," said Mr. Cibber.

It may well be supposed that ev