ttack to rout and dislodge her. She began on almost the
very first occasion when the ladies met. "I was so sorry to hear that
Monsieur le Duc was ill at Bagneres, Madame la Duchesse," the old lady
began on their very first meeting, after the usual salutations had taken
place.

"Madame la Comtesse is very kind to interest herself in Monsieur
d'Ivry's health. Monsieur le Duc at his age is not disposed to travel.
You, dear miladi, are more happy in being always able to retain the gout
des voyages!"

"I come to my family! my dear Duchess."

"How charmed they must be to possess you! Miladi Anne, you must be
inexpressibly consoled by the presence of a mother so tender! Permit me
to present Madame la Comtesse de la Cruchecassee to Madame la Comtesse
de Kew. Miladi is sister to that amiable Marquis of Steyne, whom you
have known, Ambrosine! Madame la Baronne de Schlangenbad, Miladi Kew.
Do you not see the resemblance to milor? These ladies have enjoyed the
hospitalities--the splendours of Gaunt House. They were of those famous
routs of which the charming Mistress Crawley, la semillante Becki,
made part! How sad the Hotel de Gaunt must be under the present
circumstances! Have you heard, miladi, of the charming Mistress Becki?
Monsieur le Duc describes her as the most spirituelle Englishwoman he
ever met." The Queen of Scots turns and whispers her lady of honour, and
shrugs and taps her forehead. Lady Kew knows that Madame d'Ivry speaks
of her nephew, the present Lord Steyne, who is not in his right mind.
The Duchess looks round, and sees a friend in the distance whom she
beckons. "Comtesse, you know already monsieur the Captain Blackball? He
makes the delight of our society!" A dreadful man with a large cigar,
a florid waistcoat, and billiards written on his countenance, swaggers
forward at the Duchess's summons. The Countess of Kew has not gained
much by her attack. She has been presented to Cruchecassee and
Schlangenbad. She sees herself on the eve of becoming the acquaintance
of Captain Blackball.

"Permit me, Duchess, to choose my English friends at least for myself,"
says Lady Kew, drumming her foot.

"But, madam, assuredly! You do not love this good Monsieur de Blackball?
Eh! the English manners are droll, pardon me for saying so. It is
wonderful how proud you are as a nation, and how ashamed you are of your
compatriots!"

"There are some persons who are ashamed of nothing, Madame la Duchesse,"
cries Lady Kew; losi