CHAPTER X.

Seest thou how gayly my young maister goes?
--Bishop Hall's Satires.

Qui vit sans folie, n'est pas si sage qu'il croit.
--La Rochefoucault.

I lost no time in presenting my letters of introduction, and they were as
quickly acknowledged by invitations to balls and dinners. Paris was full
to excess, and of a better description of English than those who usually
overflow that reservoir of the world. My first engagement was to dine
with Lord and Lady Bennington, who were among the very few English
intimate in the best French houses.

On entering Paris I had resolved to set up "a character;" for I was
always of an ambitious nature, and desirous of being distinguished from
the ordinary herd. After various cogitations as to the particular one I
should assume, I thought nothing appeared more likely to be remarkable
among men, and therefore pleasing to women, than an egregious coxcomb:
accordingly I arranged my hair into ringlets, dressed myself with
singular plainness and simplicity (a low person, by the by, would have
done just the contrary), and putting on an air of exceeding languor, made
my maiden appearance at Lord Bennington's. The party was small, and
equally divided between French and English: the former had been all
emigrants, and the conversation was chiefly in our own tongue.

I was placed, at dinner, next to Miss Paulding, an elderly young lady, of
some notoriety at Paris, very clever, very talkative, and very conceited.
A young, pale, ill-natured looking man, sat on her left hand; this was