gallery; and, unwilling to appear as though
going to meet him, she once more resumed her seat beside M. de Lucenay.

"I say, Lady Macgregor," vociferated the incorrigible De Lucenay,
"didn't I look preciously like a wild man of the woods, or the god Pan,
or a sylvan, or a naiad, or some of those savage creatures, with that
green wreath round my head? Oh, but talking of savages," added he,
abruptly approaching Sarah, "Lady Macgregor, I must tell you a most
outrageously indecent story. Just imagine that at Otaheite--"

"My lord duke--" interrupted Sarah, in a tone of freezing rebuke.

"Just as you like,--you are not obliged to hear my story if you don't
like it; you are the loser, that's all. Ah! I see Madame de Fonbonne out
there; I shall keep it for her; she is a dear, kind creature, and will
be delighted to hear it; so I'll save it for her."

Madame de Fonbonne was a fat little woman, of about fifty years of age,
very pretending, and very ridiculous. Her fat double chin rested on her
equally fat throat; and she was continually talking, with upturned eyes,
of her tender, her sensitive soul; the languor of her soul; the craving
of her soul; the aspirations of her soul. To these disadvantages, she
added the additional one of being particularly ill-dressed, upon the
present occasion, in a horrible-looking copper-coloured turban, with a
sprinkling of green flowers over it.

"Yes," again asserted De Lucenay, in his loudest voice, "that charming
anecdote shall be told to Madame de Fonbonne."

"May I be permitted, my lord duke, to inquire the subject of your
conversation?" said the lady thus apostrophised, who, hearing her name
mentioned, immediately commenced her usual mincing, bridling attempts to
draw up her chubby self, but, failing in the effort, fell back upon the
easier manoeuvre of "rolling up the whites of her eyes," as it is
commonly called.

"It refers, madame, to a most horribly indecent, revolting, and strange
story."

"Heaven bless me! and who dares--oh, dear me, who would venture--"

"I would, madame. I can answer for the truth of the anecdote, and that
it would make a stick or a stone blush to hear it; but, as I am aware
how dearly you love such stories, I will relate it to you. You must
know, then, that in Otaheite--"

"My lord," exclaimed the indignant lady, turning up her eyes with
indignant horror, "it really is surprising you can allow yourself to--"

"Now for those unkind looks you shall not