we shall henceforth, out of respect
to the Princess's rank generally pretermit),--"now you are come to
England we hope to see you often. Not here in this noisy hotel, which
I can't bear, but in the country. Our house is only three miles from
Newcome--not such a grand place as your uncle's; but I hope we shall see
you there a great deal, and your friend Mr Pendennis, if he is passing
that way." The invitation to Mr. Pendennis, I am bound to say, was
given in terms by no means so warm as those in which the Princess's
hospitality to Clive were professed.

"Shall we meet you at your Huncle 'Obson's?" the lady continued to
Clive; "his wife is a most charming, well-informed woman, has been most
kind and civil and we dine there to-day. Barnes and his wife is gone to
spend the honeymoon at Newcome. Lady Clara is a sweet dear thing, and
her pa and ma most affable, I am sure. What a pity Sir Brian couldn't
attend the marriage! There was everybody there in London, a'most. Sir
Harvey Diggs says he is mending very slowly. In life we are in death,
Mr. Newcome! Isn't it sad to think of him, in the midst of all his
splendour and prosperity, and he so infirm and unable to enjoy them! But
let us hope for the best, and that his health will soon come round!"

With these and similar remarks, in which poor Florac took but a very
small share (for he seemed dumb and melancholy in the company of the
Princess, his elderly spouse), the visit sped on. Mr. Pendennis, to whom
very little was said, having leisure to make his silent observations
upon the person to whom he had been just presented.

As there lay on the table two neat little packages, addressed "The
Princess de Moncontour"--an envelope to the same address, with "The
Prescription, No. 9396," further inscribed on the paper, and a sheet of
notepaper, bearing cabalistic characters, and the signature of that most
fashionable physician, Sir Harvey Diggs, I was led to believe that
the lady of Moncontour was, or fancied herself, in a delicate state
of health. By the side of the physic for the body was medicine for the
soul--a number of pretty little books in middle-age bindings, in
antique type many of theist, adorned with pictures of the German
school, representing demure ecclesiastics, with their heads on one side,
children in long starched nightgowns, virgins bearing lilies, and so
forth, from which it was to be concluded that the owner of the volumes
was not so hostile to Rome as she had