"Mazzini! Is he here?"

"Not now; but I have seen him here," said the parasite, "and our host
such a Tory! That makes the thing so amusing;" and then the parasite
went on making small personal observations on the surrounding scene, and
every now and then telling little tales of great people with whom, it
appeared, he was intimate -- all concerted fire to gain the very great
social fortress he was now besieging. The parasite was so full of
himself, and so anxious to display himself to advantage, that with all
his practice it was some time before he perceived he did not make all
the way he could wish with Lothair; who was courteous, but somewhat
monosyllabic and absent.

"Your lordship is struck by that face?" said the parasite.

Was Lothair struck by that face? And what was it?

He had exchanged glances with that face during the last ten minutes, and
the mutual expression was not one of sympathy but curiosity blended, on
the part of the face, with an expression, if not of disdain, of extreme
reserve.

It was the face of a matron, apparently of not many summers, for her
shapely figure was still slender, though her mien was stately. But it
was the countenance that had commanded the attention of Lothair: pale,
but perfectly Attic in outline, with the short upper lip and the round
chin, and a profusion of dark-chestnut hair bound by a Grecian fillet,
and on her brow a star.

"Yes I am struck by that face. Who is it?"