of us girls being vain, what are _we_ to you?
It was easy to see that the first woman who chose would make a fool of
him, or the first robe--I count a priest and a woman all the same. We are
always caballing; we are not answerable for the fibs we tell; we are
always cajoling and coaxing, or threatening; and we are always making
mischief, Colonel Esmond--mark my word for that, who know the the world,
sir, and have to make my way in it. I see as well as possible how Frank's
marriage hath been managed. The count, our papa-in-law, is always away at
the coffee-house. The countess, our mother, is always in the kitchen
looking after the dinner. The countess, our sister, is at the spinet. When
my lord comes to say he is going on the campaign, the lovely Clotilda
bursts into tears, and faints so; he catches her in his arms--no, sir, keep
your distance, cousin, if you please--she cries on his shoulder, and he
says, 'Oh, my divine, my adored, my beloved Clotilda, are you sorry to
part with me?' 'Oh, my Francisco,' says she, 'oh, my lord!' and at this
very instant mamma and a couple of young brothers, with moustachios and
long rapiers, come in from the kitchen, where they have been eating bread
and onions. Mark my word, you will have all this woman's relations at
Castlewood three months after she has arrived there. The old count and
countess, and the young counts and all the little countesses her sisters.
Counts! every one of these wretches says he is a count. Guiscard, that
stabbed Mr. Harvy, said he was a count; and I believe he was a barber. All
Frenchmen are barbers--Fiddle-dee! don't contradict me--or else
dancing-masters, or else priests;" and so she rattled on.

"Who was it taught _you_ to dance, cousin Beatrix?" says the colonel.

She laughed out the air of a minuet, and swept a low curtsy, coming up to
the recover with the prettiest little foot in the world pointed out. Her
mother came in as she was in this attitude; my lady had been in her
closet, having taken poor Frank's conversion in a very serious way; the
madcap girl ran up to her mother, put her arms round her waist, kissed
her, tried to make her dance, and said: "Don't be silly, you kind little
mamma, and cry about Frank turning Papist. What a figure he must be, with
a white sheet and a candle walking in a procession barefoot!" And she
kicked off her little slippers (the wonderfullest little shoes with
wonderful tall red heels, Esmond pounced upon one as it fell clo