ess to the vain
opera-dancer, whose charms and conduct were not submitted to their
masterly analysis. And yet it would be but fair to admit that their
critical ability was more eminent and satisfactory than their abstract
reasoning upon this interesting topic; for it was curious to observe
that, though everyone present piqued himself upon his profound knowledge
of the sex, not two of the sages agreed in the constituent principles
of female character. One declared that women were governed by their
feelings; another maintained that they had no heart; a third propounded
that it was all imagination; a fourth that it was all vanity. Lord
Castlefyshe muttered something about their passions; and Charley
Doricourt declared that they had no passions whatever. But they all
agreed in one thing, to wit, that the man who permitted himself a
moment's uneasiness about a woman was a fool.

All this time Captain Armine spoke little, but ever to the purpose, and
chiefly to the Count Mirabel, who pleased him. Being very handsome, and,
moreover, of a distinguished appearance, this silence on the part of
Ferdinand made him a general favourite, and even Mr. Bevil whispered his
approbation to Lord Catchimwhocan.

'The fact is,' said Charles Doricourt, 'it is only boys and old men who
are plagued by women. They take advantage of either state of childhood.
Eh! Castlefyshe?'

'In that respect, then, somewhat resembling you, Charley,' replied
his lordship, who did not admire the appeal. 'For no one can doubt you
plagued your father; I was out of my teens, fortunately, before you
played ecarte.'

'Come, good old Fyshe,' said Count Mirabel, 'take a glass of claret,
and do not look so fierce. You know very well that Charley learned
everything of you.'

'He never learned from me to spend a fortune upon an actress,' said his
lordship. 'I ave spent a fortune, but, thank heaven, it was on myself.'

'Well, as for that,' said the Count, 'I think there is something great
in being ruined for one's friends. If I were as rich as I might have
been, I would not spend much on myself. My wants are few; a fine house,
fine carriages, fine horses, a complete wardrobe, the best opera-box,
the first cook, and pocket-money; that is all I require. I have these,
and I get on pretty well; but if I had a princely fortune I would make
every good fellow I know quite happy.'

'Well,' said Charles Doricourt, 'you are a lucky fellow, Mirabel. I have
had horses, houses,