the power, when pronounced in a certain tone, of throwing Belinda into
confusion.

The first person they saw, when they went into the drawing-room at Lady
Singleton's, was this very Clarence Hervey, who was not in a masquerade
dress. He had laid a wager with one of his acquaintance, that he could
perform the part of the serpent, such as he is seen in Fuseli's well-known
picture. For this purpose he had exerted much ingenuity in the invention
and execution of a length of coiled skin, which he manoeuvred with great
dexterity, by means of internal wires; his grand difficulty had been to
manufacture the rays that were to come from his eyes. He had contrived a
set of phosphoric rays, which he was certain would charm all the fair
daughters of Eve. He forgot, it seems, that phosphorus could not well be
seen by candlelight. When he was just equipped as a serpent, his rays set
fire to part of his _envelope_, and it was with the greatest difficulty
that he was extricated. He escaped unhurt, but his serpent's skin was
utterly consumed; nothing remained but the melancholy spectacle of its
skeleton. He was obliged to give up the hopes of shining at the
masquerade, but he resolved to be at Lady Singleton's that he might meet
Lady Delacour and Miss Portman. The moment that the tragic and comic muse
appeared, he invoked them with much humour and mock pathos, declaring that
he knew not which of them could best sing his adventure. After a recital
of his misfortune had entertained the company, and after the muses had
performed their parts to the satisfaction of the audience and their own,
the conversation ceased to be supported in masquerade character; muses and
harlequins, gipsies and Cleopatras, began to talk of their private
affairs, and of the news and the scandal of the day.

A group of gentlemen, amongst whom was Clarence Hervey, gathered round the
tragic muse; as Mr. Hervey had hinted that he knew she was a person of