"I cannot answer for either, on that point."

"Speak then for yourself. Do _you_ think them right?"

"You should remember, Grace, that I have not yet seen any society in
New-York."

"No society, dear!--Why you were at the Henderson's, and the
Morgan's, and the Drewett's; three of the greatest _reunions_ that we
have had in two winters!"'

"I did not know that you meant those unpleasant crowds, by society."

"Unpleasant crowds! Why, child, that _is_ society, is it not?'

"Not what I have been taught to consider such; I rather think it
would be better to call it company."

"And is not this what is called society in Paris?"

"As far from it as possible; it may be an excrescence of society; one
of its forms; but, by no means, society itself. It would be as true
to call cards, which are sometimes introduced in the world, society,
as to call a ball given in two small and crowded rooms, society. They
are merely two of the modes in which idlers endeavour to vary their
amusements."

"But we have little else than these balls, the morning visits, and an
occasional evening, in which there is no dancing."

"I am sorry to hear it; for, in that case, you can have no society."

"And is it different at Paris--or Florence, or Rome?"

"Very. In Paris there are many houses open every evening to which one
can go, with little ceremony. Our sex appears in them, dressed
according to what a gentleman I overheard conversing at Mrs.
Henderson's would call their 'ulterior intentions,' for the night;
some attired in the simplest manner, others dressed for concerts, for
the opera, for court even; some on the way from a dinner, and others
going to a late ball. All this matter of course variety, adds to the
case and grace of the company, and coupled with perfect good manners,
a certain knowledge of passing events, pretty modes of expression, an
accurate and even utterance, the women usually find the means of
making themselves agreeable. Their sentiment is sometimes a little
heroic, but this one must overlook, and it is a taste, moreover, that
is falling into disuse, as people read better books."

"And you prefer this heartlessness, Eve, to the nature of your own
country!"

"I do not know that quiet, _retenue_, and a good tone, are a whit
more heartless than flirting, giggling and childishness. There may be
more nature in the latter, certainly, but it is scarcely as
agreeable, after one has fairly got rid of the nursery."

Grace