people always are when they are swindling you, or meditating an
injury against you.

The poor girl had much too high an opinion of her own charms to
suspect that the Count could be unfaithful to them, and had no
notion of the plot that was formed against her. But Mr. Brock had:
for he had seen many times a gilt coach with a pair of fat white
horses ambling in the neighbourhood of the town, and the Captain on
his black steed caracolling majestically by its side; and he had
remarked a fat, pudgy, pale-haired woman treading heavily down the
stairs of the Assembly, leaning on the Captain's arm: all these Mr.
Brock had seen, not without reflection. Indeed, the Count one day,
in great good-humour, had slapped him on the shoulder and told him
that he was about speedily to purchase a regiment; when, by his
great gods, Mr. Brock should have a pair of colours. Perhaps this
promise occasioned his silence to Mrs. Catherine hitherto; perhaps
he never would have peached at all; and perhaps, therefore, this
history would never have been written, but for a small circumstance
which occurred at this period.

"What can you want with that drunken old Corporal always about your
quarters?" said Mr. Trippet to the Count one day, as they sat over
their wine, in the midst of a merry company, at the Captain's rooms.

"What!" said he. "Old Brock? The old thief has been more useful to
me than many a better man. He is as brave in a row as a lion, as
cunning in intrigue as a fox; he can nose a dun at an inconceivable
distance, and scent out a pretty woman be she behind ever so many
stone walls. If a gentleman wants a good rascal now, I can
recommend him. I am going to reform, you know, and must turn him