me? 'Tis because (I am sure of it) even in the
old clouded days I never took money from Noll, nor borrowed a
shilling that I didn't repay within the week. She is a puzzle, I
say; but somehow the key lies in this--_She is a woman that pays her
debts_. . . .

"They sail for Europe next spring; but not, as I understand for
England, where his family may not receive her, and where by
consequence he will not expose her to their slights. If I have made
you impatient to set eyes on her, you must e'enpack and pay that
long-promised visit to Florence. She is worth the pilgrimage."

They sailed in the early spring of 1752--Langton with them--and duly
came to port in the Tagus. From Lisbon, after a short stay, they
travelled to Paris, and from Paris across Switzerland to Italy,
visiting in turn Turin, Venice, Ravenna, Florence, Rome, Naples, and
returning from that port to Lisbon, where (the situation so charmed
him) Sir Oliver bought and furnished a villa overlooking the Tagus.

As she passes through Paris we get a glimpse of her in the Memoirs of
that agreeable rattle, Arnauld de Jouy:--

"I must not forget to tell of an amusing little comedy of error
played at the Opera-house this season (1752). All Paris was agog to
see the famous English--or rather Irish--beauty, my Lady Coventry,
newly arrived in the Capital. She was one of the Gunning sisters,
over whom all London had already lost its head so wildly that I am
assured a shoemaker made no small sum by exhibiting their
_pantoufles_ to the porters and chairmen at three sous a gaze. . . .
On a certain night, then, it was rumoured that she would pay her
first visit to the Opera, but none could say whose box she intended
to honour. . . . It turned out to be the Duc de Luxembourg's, and
upon my lady's entrance--a little late--the whole audience rose to
its feet in homage, though Visconti happened just then to be midway
in an _aria_. The singer faltered at the interruption, perplexed;
her singing stopped, and lifting her eyes to the lines of boxes she
dropped a sweeping curtsy--to the opposite side of the house! . . .
All eyes turn, and behold! right opposite to Beauty Number One, into
the box of Mme. the Marechale de Lowendahl there has just entered a
Beauty Number Two, not one whit less fair--so regally fair indeed
that the audience, yet standing, turn from one to the other,
uncertain which to salute. Nor were they resolved when the act
closed.

"Meantime my L