'No date is yet fixed,' my father struck in.

'It's the talk of London,' she said.

Before I could demand explanations of my father with regard to this
terrible rumour involving Ottilia, I found myself in the box of the City
widow, Lady Sampleman, a grievous person, of the complexion of the
autumnal bramble-leaf, whose first words were: 'Ah! the young suitor!
And how is our German princess?' I had to reply that the theme was more
of German princes than princesses in England. 'Oh! but,' said she, 'you
are having a--shall I call it--national revenge on them? "I will take
one of your princesses," says you; and as soon as said done! I'm dying
for a sight of her portrait. Captain DeWitt declares her heavenly--I
mean, he says she is fair and nice, quite a lady-that of course! And
never mind her not being rich. You can do the decoration to the match.
H'm,' she perused my features; 'pale! Lovelorn? Excuse an old friend of
your father's. One of his very oldest, I'd say, if it didn't impugn.
As such, proud of your alliance. I am. I speak of it everywhere--
everywhere.'

Here she dramatized the circulation of the gossip. 'Have you heard the
news? No, what? Fitz-George's son marries a princess of the German
realm. Indeed! True as gospel. And how soon? In a month; and now you
will see the dear, neglected man command the Court . . . .'

I looked at my father: I felt stifling with confusion and rage. He leant
over to her, imparting some ecstatic news about a great lady having
determined to call on her to regulate the affairs of an approaching grand
Ball, and under cover of this we escaped.