course not, the word presents in Lounger's language an indescribable
idiom.--Here the Lounger, a spare man with an agreeable smile, a sayer
of pretty nothings with more acquired cleverness than native wit,
stoops to your ear and adds, with a shrewd glance: "I have never seen
Monsieur Firmiani. His social position is that of looking after
property in Italy. Madame Firmiani is a Frenchwoman, and spends her
money like a Parisian. She has excellent tea. It is one of the few
houses where you can amuse yourself; the refreshments are exquisite.
It is very difficult to get admitted; therefore, of course, one meets
only the best society in her salons." Here the Lounger takes a pinch
of snuff; he inhales it slowly and seems to say: "I go there, but
don't expect me to present _you_."

Evidently the Lounger considers that Madame Firmiani keeps a sort of
inn, without a sign.

"Why do you want to know Madame Firmiani? Her parties are as dull as
the Court itself. What is the good of possessing a mind unless to
avoid such salons, where stupid talk and foolish little ballads are
the order of the day." You have questioned a being classed Egotist, a
species who would like to keep the universe under lock and key, and
let nothing be done without their permission. They are unhappy if
others are happy; they forgive nothing but vices, downfalls,
frailties, and like none but proteges. Aristocrats by inclination,
they make themselves democrats out of spite, preferring to consort
with inferiors as equals.

"Oh, Madame Firmiani, my dear fellow! she is one of those adorable
women who serve as Nature's excuse for all the ugly ones she creates.
Madame Firmiani is enchanting, and so kind! I wish I were in power and