"Yes, indeed, there is much that is soft in her countenance, and much
that is still regular in her features; but what struck me most was the
pensive and even sad tranquillity that rests upon her face when she is
silent."

"The expression betrays the mind," answered Fleuri; "and the curse of
the great is /ennui/."

"Of the great in station," said I, "but not necessarily of the great in
mind. I have heard that the Bishop of Frejus, notwithstanding his rank
and celebrity, employs every hour to the advantage of others, and
consequently without tedium to himself."

"Aha!" said Fleuri, smiling gently and patting my cheek: "see now if the
air of palaces is not absolutely prolific of pretty speeches." And,
before I could answer, we were in the apartments of the King.

Leaving me a while to cool my heels in a gallery, filled with the
butterflies who bask in the royal sunshine, Frejus then disappeared
among the crowd; he was scarcely gone when I was agreeably surprised by
seeing Count Hamilton approach towards me.

"/Mort diable/!" said he, shaking me by the hand /a l'Anglaise/; "I am
really delighted to see any one here who does not insult my sins with
his superior excellence. Eh, now, look round this apartment for a
moment! Whether would you believe yourself at the court of a great king
or the /levee/ of a Roman cardinal! Whom see you chiefly? Gallant
soldiers, with worn brows and glittering weeds? wise statesmen with ruin
to Austria and defiance to Rome in every wrinkle? gay nobles in costly