delicious presence of Valerie de Ventadour.

One evening, Maltravers, Ferrers, the French minister, a pretty Italian,
and the Princess di ------, made the whole party collected at Madame de
Ventadour's. The conversation fell upon one of the tales of scandal
relative to English persons, so common on the Continent.

"Is it true, Monsieur," said the French minister, gravely, to Lumley,
"that your countrymen are much more immoral than other people? It is
very strange, but in every town I enter, there is always some story in
which /les Anglais/ are the heroes. I hear nothing of French
scandal--nothing of Italian--/toujours les Anglais/."

"Because we are shocked at these things, and make a noise about them,
while you take them quietly. Vice is our episode--your epic."

"I suppose it is so," said the Frenchman, with affected seriousness.
"If we cheat at play, or flirt with a fair lady, we do it with decorum,
and our neighbours think it no business of theirs. But you treat every
frailty you find in your countrymen as a public concern, to be discussed
and talked over, and exclaimed against, and told to all the world."

"I like the system of scandal," said Madame de Ventadour, abruptly; "say
what you will, the policy of fear keeps many of us virtuous. Sin might
not be odious, if we did not tremble at the consequence even of
appearances."

"Hein, hein," grunted Monsieur de Ventadour, shuffling into the room.
"How are you?--how are you? Charmed to see you. Dull night--I suspect
we shall have rain. Hein, hein. Aha, Monsieur Ferrers, /comment ca