being taken in to marry a niece of that "catch-matchmaker," as Mrs.
Stanhope was known amongst the men of his acquaintance.

Under the guise of a tragic muse--in which character Lady Delacour had
pretended she was going to a masquerade--Belinda heard his true
sentiments with regard to her.

"You don't believe I go to Lady Delacour's to look for a wife? Do you
think I'm an idiot? Do you think I could be taken in by one of the
Stanhope school?" he said to the facetious friends who rallied him on
his attachment. "Do you think I don't see as plainly as any of you that
Belinda Portman is a composition of art and affectation?"

"Melpomene, hast thou forgot thyself to warble?" asked Lady Delacour,
tripping towards them as the comic muse.

"I am not very well," whispered Miss Portman. "Could we get away?"

"Do see if you can find any of my people!" cried Lady Delacour to
Clarence Hervey, who had followed them downstairs.

"Lady Delacour, the comic muse!" exclaimed he. "I had thought----"

"No matter what you thought!" interrupted her ladyship. "Let my carriage
draw up, and put this lady into it!" And he obeyed without uttering a
syllable.

"Dry up your tears, _keep on your mask_, and elbow your way through the
crowd," she said, when she had heard Belinda's story. "If you stop to be
civil and 'hope I don't hurt ye,' you will be trod underfoot."