vanity building up outside her head, with the melancholy bodings within
it, as she sat motionless under the hairdresser's fingers; but at the
end she roused herself to smile gratefully, and give the admiration
that was felt to be due to the monstrosity that crowned her.
Forbearance and Christian patience may be exercised even on a toilette
a la Louis XV. Long practice enabled her to walk about, seat herself,
rise and curtsey without detriment to the edifice, or bestowing the
powder either on her neighbours or on the richly-flowered white brocade
she wore; while she received the compliments, one after another, of
ladies in even more gorgeous array, and gentlemen in velvet coats,
adorned with gold lace, cravats of exquisite fabric, and diamond shoe
buckles.

Phelim Burke, otherwise l'Abbe de St. Eudoce, stood near her. He was a
thin, yellow, and freckled youth, with sandy hair and typical Irish
features, but without their drollery, and his face was what might have
been expected in a half-starved, half-clad gossoon in a cabin, rather
than surmounting a silken soutane in a Parisian salon; but he had a
pleasant smile when kindly addressed by his friends.

Presently Lady Nithsdale drew near, accompanied by a tall, grave
gentleman, and bringing with them a still taller youth, with the
stiffest of backs and the longest of legs, who, when presented, made a
bow apparently from the end of his spine, like Estelle's lamented
Dutch-jointed doll when made to sit down. Moreover, he was more
shabbily dressed than any other gentleman present, with a general
outgrown look about his coat, and darns in his silk stockings; and
though they were made by the hand of a Countess, that did not add to
their elegance. And as he stood as stiff as a ramrod or as a sentinel,
Estelle's good breeding was all called into play, and her mother's