"It would be a sin, undoubtedly, to waste flattery upon the dead, my dear
countess," said Lady Delacour; "but here, without flattery to the living,
as you have a lock of Mad. de Grignan's hair, you can tell us whether _la
belle chevelure_, of which Mad. de Sevigne talked so much, was any thing
to be compared to my Belinda's." As she spoke, Lady Delacour, before
Belinda was aware of her intentions, dexterously let down her beautiful
tresses; and the Countess de Pomenars was so much struck at the sight,
that she was incapable of paying the necessary compliments. "Nay, touch
it," said Lady Delacour--"it is so fine and so soft."

At this dangerous moment her ladyship artfully let drop the comb. Clarence
Hervey suddenly stooped to pick it up, totally forgetting his hoop and his
character. He threw down the music-stand with his hoop. Lady Delacour
exclaimed "Bravissima!" and burst out a-laughing. Lady Boucher, in
amazement, looked from one to another for an explanation, and was a
considerable time before, as she said, she could believe her own eyes.
Clarence Hervey acknowledged he had lost his bet, joined in the laugh, and
declared that fifty guineas was too little to pay for the sight of the
finest hair that he had ever beheld. "I declare he deserves a lock of _la
belle chevelure_ for that speech, Miss Portman," cried Lady Delacour;
"I'll appeal to all the world--Mad. de Pomenars must have a lock to
measure with Mad. de Grignan's? Come, a second rape of the lock, Belinda."

Fortunately for Belinda, "the glittering forfex" was not immediately
produced, as fine ladies do not now, as in former times, carry any such
useless implements about with them.

Such was the modest, graceful dignity of Miss Portman's manners, that she
escaped without even the charge of prudery. She retired to her own
apartment as soon as she could.