hs after the marriage of Barnes Newcome and
Lady Clara, Jack's elder brother died, and he himself became the next in
succession to the title and estates of Highgate, many folks said it was
a pity little Barney's marriage had taken place so soon. Lord Kew was
not present, because Kew was still abroad; he had had a gambling duel
with a Frenchman, and a narrow squeak for his life. He had turned Roman
Catholic, some men said; others vowed that he had joined the Methodist
persuasion. At all events Kew had given up his wild courses, broken with
the turf, and sold his stud off; he was delicate yet, and his mother
was taking care of him; between whom and the old dowager of Kew, who had
made up Barney's marriage, as everybody knew, there was no love lost.

Then who was the Prince de Moncontour, who, with his princess, figured
at this noble marriage? There was a Moncontour, the Duc d'Ivry's son,
but he died at Paris before the revolution of '30: one or two of the
oldsters at Bays's, Major Pendennis, General Tufto, old Cackleby--the
old fogies, in a word--remembered the Duke of Ivry when he was here
during the Emigration, and when he was called Prince de Moncontour, the
title of the eldest son of the family. Ivry was dead, having buried his
son before him, and having left only a daughter by that young woman
whom he married, and who led him such a life. Who was this present
Moncontour?

He was a gentleman to whom the reader has already been presented, though
when we lately saw him at Baden he did not enjoy so magnificent a title.
Early in the year of Barnes Newcome's marriage, there came to England,
and to our modest apartment in the Temple, a gentleman bringing a letter
of recommendation from our dear young Clive, who said that the bearer,
the Vicomte de Florac, was a great friend of his, and of the Colonel's,
who had known his family from boyhood. A friend of our Clive and our
Colonel was sure of a welcome in Lamb Court; we gave him the hand of
hospitality, the best cigar in the box, the easy-chair with only one
broken leg; the dinner in chambers and at the club, the banquet at
Greenwich (where, ma foi, the little whites baits elicited his profound
satisfaction); in a word, did our best to honour that bill which our
young Clive had drawn upon us. We considered the young one in the light
of a nephew of our own; we took a pride in him, and were fond of him;
and as for the Colonel, did we not love and honour him; would we not
do ou