'

Admire the concluding stroke. The Countess calls this letter a purely
business communication. Commercial men might hardly think so; but
perhaps ladies will perceive it. She rambles concentrically, if I may
so expound her. Full of luxurious enjoyment of her position, her mind is
active, and you see her at one moment marking a plot, the next, with
a light exclamation, appeasing her conscience, proud that she has
one; again she calls up rival forms of faith, that she may show the
Protestant its little shortcomings, and that it is slightly in debt to
her (like Providence) for her constancy, notwithstanding. The Protestant
you see, does not confess, and she has to absolve herself, and must be
doing it internally while she is directing outer matters. Hence her slap
at King Henry VIII. In fact, there is much more business in this letter
than I dare to indicate; but as it is both impertinent and unpopular to
dive for any length of time beneath the surface (especially when there
are few pearls to show for it), we will discontinue our examination.

The Countess, when she had dropped the letter in the bag, returned to
her chamber, and deputed Dorothy Loring, whom she met on the stairs,
to run and request Rose to lend her her album to beguile the afternoon
with; and Dorothy dances to Rose, saying, 'The Countess de Lispy-Lispy
would be delighted to look at your album all the afternoon.'

'Oh what a woman that is!' says Rose. 'Countess de Lazy-Lazy, I think.'

The Countess, had she been listening, would have cared little for
accusations on that head. Idlesse was fashionable: exquisite languors
were a sign of breeding; and she always had an idea that she looked
more interesting at dinner after reclining on a couch the whole of the
afternoon. The great Mel and his mate had given her robust health,
and she was able to play the high-born invalid without damage to
her constitution. Anything amused her; Rose's album even, and the
compositions of W. H., E. H., D. F., and F. L. The initials F. L. were
diminutive, and not unlike her own hand, she thought. They were appended
to a piece of facetiousness that would not have disgraced the abilities
of Mr. John Raikes; but we know that very stiff young gentlemen betray
monkey-minds when sweet young ladies compel them to disport. On the
whole, it was not a lazy afternoon that the Countess passed, and it was
not against her wish that others should think it was.

CHAPTER XX. BREAK-NECK L