, Monsieur Goupille by name, an eminent man in
the Faubourg; he was in his grand climacteric, but still belhomme; wore
a very well-made peruque of light auburn, with tight pantaloons, which
contained a pair of very respectable calves; and his white neckcloth
and his large gill were washed and got up with especial care. Next to
Monsieur Goupille sat a very demure and very spare young lady of about
two-and-thirty, who was said to have saved a fortune--Heaven knows
how--in the family of a rich English milord, where she had officiated
as governess; she called herself Mademoiselle Adele de Courval, and was
very particular about the de, and very melancholy about her ancestors.
Monsieur Goupille generally put his finger through his peruque, and fell
away a little on his left pantaloon when he spoke to Mademoiselle de
Courval, and Mademoiselle de Courval generally pecked at her bouquet
when she answered Monsieur Goupille. On the other side of this young
lady sat a fine-looking fair man--M. Sovolofski, a Pole, buttoned up to
the chin, and rather threadbare, though uncommonly neat. He was
flanked by a little fat lady, who had been very pretty, and who kept a
boarding-house, or pension, for the English, she herself being English,
though long established in Paris. Rumour said she had been gay in her
youth, and dropped in Paris by a Russian nobleman, with a very pretty
settlement, she and the settlement having equally expanded by time and
season: she was called Madame Beavor. On the other side of the table was
a red-headed Englishman, who spoke very little French; who had been told
that French ladies were passionately fond of light hair; and who, having
L2000. of his own, intended to quadruple that sum by a prudent marriage.
Nobody knew what his family was, but his name was Higgins. His neighbour
was an exceedingly tall, large-boned Frenchman, with a long nose and
a red riband, who was much seen at Frascati's, and had served under
Napoleon. Then came another lady, extremely pretty, very piquante, and
very gay, but past the premiere jeunesse, who ogled Mr. Love more than
she did any of his guests: she was called Rosalie Caumartin, and was at
the head of a large bon-bon establishment; married, but her husband had
gone four years ago to the Isle of France, and she was a little doubtful
whether she might not be justly entitled to the privileges of a widow.
Next to Mr. Love, in the place of honour, sat no less a person than the
Vicomte de