revolting to some one of her attendants. Wormwood himself could not have
succeeded better. One by on they dropped off, and we were left alone
among the crowd. Then, indeed, I changed the whole tone of my
conversation. Sentiment succeeded to satire, and the pretence of feeling
to that of affectation. In short, I was so resolved to please that I
could scarcely fail to succeed.

In this main object of the evening I was not however solely employed. I
should have been very undeserving of that character for observation which
I flatter myself I peculiarly deserve, if I had not during the three
hours I stayed at Madame D--g's, conned over every person remarkable for
any thing, from rank to a ribbon. The duchesse herself was a fair,
pretty, clever woman, with manners rather English than French. She was
leaning, at the time I paid my respects to her, on the arm of an Italian
count, tolerably well known at Paris. Poor O--i! I hear he is just
married. He did not deserve so heavy a calamity!

Sir Henry Millington was close by her, carefully packed up in his coat
and waistcoat. Certainly that man is the best padder in Europe.

"Come and sit by me, Millington," cried old Lady Oldtown; "I have a good
story to tell you of the Duc de G--e."

Sir Henry, with difficulty, turned round his magnificent head, and
muttered out some unintelligible excuse. The fact was, that poor Sir
Henry was not that evening made to sit down--he had only his standing up
coat on. Lady Oldtown--heaven knows--is easily consoled. She supplied the
place of the dilapidated baronet with a most superbly mustachioed German.

"Who," said I, to Madame D'Anville, "are those pretty girls in white,