pidemic, I see,' said Mr. Pole, with a
sneer. 'However, there is the marvellous young gentleman! "Alone in a
crowd," as he says in his last poem. Very interesting!'

'Wonderful creature!' exclaimed the dame.

'Charming!' said Mr. Pole. 'If you ask Lady Monteagle, she will
introduce him to you, and then, perhaps, you will be fortunate enough
to be handed to dinner by him.'

'Oh! how I should like it!'

'You must take care, however, not to eat; he cannot endure a woman who
eats.'

'I never do,' said the lady, simply; 'at least at dinner.'

'Ah! then you will quite suit him; I dare say he will write a sonnet
to you, and call you Thyrza.'

'I wish I could get him to write some lines in my book, said the lady;
'Charles Fox has written some; he was staying with us in the autumn,
and he has written an ode to my little dog.'

'How amiable!' said Mr. Pole; 'I dare say they are as good as his
elegy on Mrs. Crewe's cat. But you must not talk of cats and dogs to
Cadurcis. He is too exalted to commemorate any animal less sublime
than a tiger or a barb.'

'You forget his beautiful lines on his Newfoundland,' said the lady.

'Very complimentary to us all,' said Mr. Horace Pole. 'The interesting
misanthrope!'

'He looks unhappy.'

'Very,' said Mr. Pole. 'Evidently something on his conscience.'

'They do whisper very odd things,' said the lady, with great
curiosity. 'Do you think there is anything in them?'

'Oh! no doubt,' said Mr. Pole; 'look at him; you can detect crime in
every glance.'

'Dear me, how shocking! I think he must be the most interesting person
that ever lived. I should so like to know him! They say he is so very
odd.'

'Very,' said Mr. Pole. 'He must be a man of genius; he is so unlike
everybody; the very tie of his cravat proves it. And his hair, so
savage and dishevelled; none but a man of genius would not wear
powder. Watch him to-day, and you will observe that he will not
condescend to perform the slightest act like an ordinary mortal. I
met him at dinner yesterday at Fanshawe's, and he touched nothing but
biscuits and soda-water. Fanshawe, you know, is famous for his cook.
Complimentary and gratifying, was it not?'

'Dear me!' said the lady, 'I am delighted to see him; and yet I hope I
shall not sit by him at dinner. I am quite afraid of him.'

'He is really awful!' said Mr. Pole.

In the meantime the subject of these observations slowly withdrew to
the further end of the saloon, apart fr