public-house--"what a lovely creature that was! What eyes! what hair!
Who knows her? Do you, mon cher prince?"

"E bellissima, certamente," said the Duca de Montepulciano, and stroked
down his jetty moustache.

"Ein gar schones Madchen," said the Hereditary Grand Duke of
Eulenschreckenstein, and turned up his carroty one.

"Elle n'est pas mal, ma foi!" said the Prince de Borodino, with a scowl
on his darkling brows. "Mon Dieu, que ces cigarres sont mauvais!" he
added as he too cast away his Cuba.

"Try one of my Pickwicks," said Franklin Fox, with a sneer, offering
his gold etui to the young Frenchman; "they are some of Pontet's best,
Prince. What, do you bear malice? Come, let us be friends," said the gay
and careless young patrician; but a scowl on the part of the Frenchman
was the only reply.

"Want to know who she is? Borodino knows who she is, Bagnigge," the wag
went on.

Everybody crowded around Monsieur de Borodino thus apostrophized. The
Marquis of Alicompayne, young De Boots of the Lifeguards, Tom Protocol
of the Foreign Office; the gay young Peers, Farintosh, Poldoody, and the
rest; and Bagnigge, for a wonder, not less eager than any one present.

"No, he will tell you nothing about her. Don't you see he has gone off
in a fury!" Franklin Fox continued. "He has his reasons, ce cher prince:
he will tell you nothing; but I will. You know that I am au mieux with