'It is only Lord Colambre, a very safe person, I have a notion, when the
eulogium is of Grace Nugent.'

Lord Colambre, who had now performed his arduous duties as a dancer, and
had disembarrassed himself of all his partners, came into the Turkish
tent just at this moment to refresh himself, and just in time to hear
Mr. Salisbury's anecdotes.

'Now go on.'

'Lady Langdale, you know, sets an inordinate value upon her curtsies in
public, and she used to treat Miss Nugent, as her ladyship treats many
other people, sometimes noticing, and sometimes pretending not to know
her, according to the company she happened to be with. One day they
met in some fine company--Lady Langdale looked as if she was afraid
of committing herself by a curtsy. Miss Nugent waited for a good
opportunity; and, when all the world was silent, leant forward, and
called to Lady Langdale, as if she had something to communicate of the
greatest consequence, skreening her whisper with her hand, as in an
aside on the stage,--'Lady Langdale, you may curtsy to me now--nobody is
looking.'

'The retort courteous!' said Lord Colambre--'the only retort for a
woman.'

'And her ladyship deserved it so well. But Mrs. Dareville, what happened
about her?'

'Mrs. Dareville, you remember, some years ago, went to Ireland with some
lady-lieutenant to whom she was related. There she was most hospitably