agreeable as she was," thought I, as I mounted my horse, and remembered
my appointment at the ambassador's.

I took unusual pains with my appearance that evening, and drove to the
ambassador's hotel in the Rue Faubourg St. Honore, full half an hour
earlier than I had ever done before. I had been some time in the rooms
without discovering my heroine of the morning. The Duchess of H--n passed
by.

"What a wonderfully beautiful woman," said Mr. Howard de Howard (the
spectral secretary of the embassy) to Mr. Aberton.

"Ay," answered Aberton, "but to my taste, the Duchesse de Perpignan is
quite equal to her--do you know her?"

"No--yes!" said Mr. Howard de Howard; "that is, not exactly--not well;"
an Englishman never owns that he does not know a duchess.

"Hem!" said Mr. Aberton, thrusting his large hand through his lank light
hair. "Hem--could one do anything, do you think, in that quarter?"

"I should think one might, with a tolerable person!" answered the
spectral secretary, looking down at a pair of most shadowy supporters.

"Pray," said Aberton, "what do you think of Miss--? they say she is an
heiress."

"Think of her!" said the secretary, who was as poor as he was thin, "why,
I have thought of her!"