and
mischievous; finally, two Parisians, who have come to take leave of
the Consul's wife at a splendid dinner, and you will have the picture
presented by the terrace of the villa about the middle of May--a picture
in which the predominant figure was that of a celebrated woman, on
whom all eyes centered now and again, the heroine of this improvised
festival.

One of the two Frenchmen was the famous landscape painter, Leon de Lora;
the other a well known critic Claude Vignon. They had both come with
this lady, one of the glories of the fair sex, Mademoiselle des Touches,
known in the literary world by the name of Camille Maupin.

Mademoiselle des Touches had been to Florence on business. With the
charming kindness of which she is prodigal, she had brought with her
Leon de Lora to show him Italy, and had gone on as far as Rome that he
might see the Campagna. She had come by Simplon, and was returning by
the Cornice road to Marseilles. She had stopped at Genoa, again on the
landscape painter's account. The Consul-General had, of course, wished
to do the honors of Genoa, before the arrival of the Court, to a woman
whose wealth, name, and position recommend her no less than her talents.
Camille Maupin, who knew her Genoa down to its smallest chapels, had
left her landscape painter to the care of the diplomate and the two
Genoese marquises, and was miserly of her minutes. Though the ambassador
was a distinguished man of letters, the celebrated lady had refused to
yield to his advances, dreading what the English call an exhibition;
but she had drawn in the claws of her refusals when it was proposed that
they should spend a farewell day at the Consul's villa. Leon de Lora had
told Camille that her presence at the villa was the only return he
could make to the Ambassador and his wife, the two Genoese noblemen, the
Consul and his wife. So Mademoiselle des Touches had sacrificed one of
those days of perfect freedom, which are not always to be had in Paris
by those on whom the world has its eye.

Now, the meeting being accounted for, it is easy to understand that
etiquette had been banished, as well as a great many women even of the
highest rank, who were curious to know whether Camille Maupin's manly
talent impaired her grace as a pretty woman, and to see, in a word,
whether the trousers showed below her petticoats. After dinner till nine
o'clock, when a collation was served, though the conversation had been
gay and grave by t