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 LIBRARY OF THE 
 
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 BOOKSTACKS
 
 ^^MMi'^-^LA 
 
 
 
 
 ■'V;-i.*>^ 

 
 GREVILLE 
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 
 
 BY MRS. GORE, 
 
 AUTHORESS OF 
 
 '' MRS. ARMYTAGE," " THE PEERESS," ETC. 
 
 " Oh ! English people, — English people ! — why can you not stay 
 and perish of apoplexy and Yorkshire pudding at home?" — 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, 
 
 GREAT MARLBOROUGU STREET. 
 184L
 
 K> 
 
 v-r 
 
 GREVILLE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A' 
 
 jv^ II faut en finir avec cette reine douairiere ; qui d'ailleurs 
 
 prolonge de la manifere la plus illegale Texercice de son 
 
 ^ autorite. 
 
 ^ Bernard. 
 
 "^ 
 
 ^ A WIDOWED countess, possessing a sufficient 
 
 JiDjointure and an only son arrived at years of 
 
 ' ^ discretion, is a personage to whom the gay world 
 
 ^ is sure to concede becoming respect. Between 
 
 .-sS the men who have views upon herself, and the 
 
 '^ women who have views upon the young earl, a 
 
 *^ considerable number of potent links are created 
 
 ^ between her ladyship's interests and those of 
 
 ^ society. i 
 
 x^ VOL. I. B \ 
 
 ^ 535159
 
 2 GUEVILLE ; OR, 
 
 Harriet, Countess of Greville, enjoyed to the 
 utmost the advantages of such a position. She 
 was a woman of high descent and honourable 
 alliances, of good appearance and unblemished 
 character. No one remembered much of the 
 circumstances of her married life* The late 
 Earl was much her senior in years, — a vale- 
 tudinarian, — almost a misanthrope. — They had 
 lived out of the world, forgetting and forgotten ; 
 and when the newspapers at length related that 
 the sick man was no more, and that the young 
 Earl, a boy of only eight years old, was left to 
 the sole guardianship of his mother, nobody 
 cared much about the matter, except a distant 
 cousin, — the heir presumptive ; — who had some 
 hopes that the child might be killed with kind- 
 ness, if the Countess were not tempted to marry 
 again. 
 
 She never was. The young Earl grew up 
 into manhood, and his parent was still a widow. 
 By the will of his father, he was not to attain 
 his majority till the age of five-and-twenty ; and 
 though most of his college friends agreed among 
 themselves that in this particular *' Greville was
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 3 
 
 deucedly ill-used," that " it was doubtless by 
 the influence of his mother over the late Earl 
 she had attained such extraordinary authority 
 over the fate and fortunes of her unlucky son," 
 — such was the respect testified towards her by 
 the young Lord, that no one presumed to say 
 more to him than that ^' it was a monstrous 
 nuisance to be so hampered !" 
 
 Whether Greville were of the same opinion, 
 it was impossible to conjecture. Habitually 
 reserved, passing his holidays and vacations 
 alone with his mother at Greville Abbey, he 
 was graver than was either natural to his years, 
 or than altogether became them. His inferiors 
 thought him proud, — his playmates, dull. He 
 was, in fact, merely undemonstrative, from 
 having had the gay impulses of childhood 
 checked by the society of persons older than 
 himself. There was no sweet sister to com- 
 passionate his grievances; not even a pretty 
 cousin to be fallen in love with ; and Greville 
 became a melancholy boy, and, in time, a silent 
 man. 
 
 The Countess, meanwhile, was one of those 
 b2
 
 4 greville; or, 
 
 mild, measured personages who are supposed 
 to have no will of their own, because they never 
 assert one. Greville Abbey, prosperous and 
 orderly, was so methodical in its routine, that 
 everything seemed to proceed mechanically and 
 without the exercise of a supreme authority. 
 Deliberate in her movements, low in voice, 
 gentle in demeanour, Lady Greville seemed to 
 differ little from other well-bred middle-aged 
 women. She was choice without being fashion- 
 able in her attire; cheerful, without being lively. 
 While her son was still at Eton, people spoke 
 of her as simply a good neighbour, a prudent 
 mother, a sensible woman. Nobody cared 
 much abort her ; but nobody was heard to say a 
 syllable to her disparagement. And though by 
 the time Lord Greville quitted College, the 
 county of Oxford and coteries of London began 
 to discover that she was a charming person, a 
 very superior woman, one who had made most 
 extraordinary sacrifices to keep single for the 
 sake of an only son, there was, in truth, but 
 little difference between the Countess at forty 
 and the Countess at forty-five.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 5 
 
 Of the multitudes who belauded her, how- 
 ever, none thought so highly of her as her son. 
 Greville, who had never had anything else to 
 love, bestowed upon her all the affections of his 
 young heart. She had taken care not to pro- 
 vide him with tutors too agreeable; and the 
 disagreeable tutors had taken care that he 
 should not attach himself too familiarly to com- 
 panions of his own age. The Countess was 
 consequently his familiar friend as well as his 
 second providence. All that depended upon 
 her care to render his home delightful, except 
 youthful companionship, was sedulously afforded ; 
 and as this sole privation was attributed, in his 
 hearing, to intense care for his morals and 
 happiness, amid the levity of a dissolute age, he 
 grew accustomed to seeing old faces about him, 
 and satisfied with the sympathy and friendship 
 of his mother. 
 
 If, as it has been before observed, any new 
 light broke in upon the young Earl in the course 
 of his Oxford life, he was too dutiful a son to 
 render any human being cognizant of his 
 opinion.
 
 6 greville; or, 
 
 A period was now approaching, however, to 
 which Lady Greville had always looked forward 
 with consternation. The Earl, her darling 
 Hugo, her idolized Hugo, had just completed 
 his twenty-first year ; — a man, though still a 
 minor, — a man, though a legal nonentity. 
 Strikingly handsome, and awkward only in 
 consequence of his strict education and secluded 
 habits of life, she knew that certain inevit- 
 able evils must follow his introduction into 
 fashionable society. He would be snapt up 
 by some manoeuvring mamma as a husband for 
 her daughter, or devoured by the noble sharpers 
 of some unexceptionable club. — His person and 
 his forty thousand per annum were in imminent 
 danger ! — She had failed in making a bookworm 
 of him, — she had failed in making a sportsman 
 of him ; under which circumstances, it was im- 
 possible to expect that he could fix himself at 
 Greville Abbey, in a singularly dull neighbour- 
 hood, more than ten months of the year ; and 
 during the remaining two, what mischiefs might 
 not be engendered ! — 
 
 There was but one resource, — travel — foreign
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 7 
 
 travel. During an autumn at Cowes, the young 
 Earl luckily imbibed a taste for yachting, and 
 became proprietor of one of the Antelopes or 
 Ariels, thrown every season into the market by 
 the ruin or untimely end of the proprietors. 
 The following summer, enchanted with his new 
 pursuit, he proposed a cruise in the Mediter- 
 ranean ; and thus favoured in her projects, Lady 
 Greville, whose health was really impaired by 
 the fidgets and responsibilities of her position, 
 got herself ordered to the South ; and while her 
 son dreamed only of being " spell-bound among 
 the clustering Cyclades," or amusing himself 
 with an excursion to the Egyptian cataracts, she 
 resolved to establish herself at Naples to await 
 his return. 
 
 The absence of the family was likely to be 
 little noticed in Oxfordshire. The hospitalities 
 of the Abbey were at all times limited. Lord 
 Greville had formed no friendships or connex- 
 ions with society, — his mother had curtailed hers 
 from views of worldly policy ; and, as the same 
 number of chaldrons of coals, and the same pro- 
 vision of blankets, was to be distributed at Christ-
 
 8 greville; or, 
 
 mas to the poor of the village, no one had a 
 right to complain. The school-children were 
 not sorry to escape " my lady's" austere inspec- 
 tion of their monthly catechization ; and the 
 keepers much better pleased to poach his lord- 
 ship's hares and pheasants for their own market, 
 than to escort him through his preserves. Ex- 
 cept that the shutters of the state apartments 
 were closed, for the cultivation of damp and the 
 injury of the pictures, and that the lawn was 
 growing a little weedy, the aspect of the Abbey 
 was more cheerful after their departure than 
 during the residence of the Countess. 
 
 One person alone was dissatisfied. Some 
 four miles from the park gates, stood the old- 
 fashioned residence of Mr. Massingberd, a 
 country gentleman of independent fortune and 
 independent mind ; whose lady, having married 
 her daughters and exercising no control over her 
 only son, had spare time on her hands to take 
 considerable interest in the proceedings of the 
 great family. It was not often she could obtain 
 the attention of her husband ; whose mornings 
 were occupied with the cultivation of his estate,
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 9 
 
 and his evenings with that of his understanding. 
 But there is a spare half-hour in English domes- 
 tic life, which commits even the most repugnant 
 of husbands to the custody of his spouse, — 
 between the withdrawal of the servants after 
 dinner and the announcement of tea. Poor 
 Massingberd was glad enough when the signal 
 of release arrived. The pause between farming 
 and reading was the only disagreeable moment 
 of his day. Meanwhile, when Mrs. Massing- 
 berd was troubled with a fit of prosing, he was 
 not forced to favour her with his attention or his 
 replies further than suited his- convenience; the 
 duty of politeness not being included in his 
 category of conjugal virtues. 
 
 It was probably because hopeless of an an- 
 swer that, one doleful autumnal evening, as they 
 sat at their solitary dessert, Mrs. Massingberd 
 restricted her efforts at sociability to a series of 
 heavy sighs. 
 
 *' You have eaten too many filberts, my dear, — 
 you will give yourself an indigestion," observed 
 the squire, on finding that the sixth *' heigh ho !" 
 was uttered almost in a tone of interrogation. 
 b3
 
 10 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 " If you look on my plate, Mr. Massingberd, 
 you will find that I have not touched one /" re- 
 plied the lady, swelling with indignation. "Just 
 like you ! — because you see me nervous and out 
 of spirits, you seize the opportunity to accuse 
 me of—" 
 
 " I did not know you were nervous and out of 
 spirits, my love. — Will you take another glass 
 of sherry ?" — 
 
 " Thank you ! — in order that you may tell 
 me, by-and-by, that my headache proceeds 
 from too much wine !" — 
 
 " What is the matter with you, my dear ? — I 
 see you are determined I shall inquire." 
 
 " On the contrary, I feel tliat you might 
 spare me the inquiry. — Poor dear Lady Gre- 
 ville !"— 
 
 " Has she met with any accident on the 
 road ?"-— 
 
 " I trust in Heaven, not ! — No ! I only meant 
 that she must have reached Dovor by this time." 
 
 " So much the better for her, — and so much 
 the better for us." — 
 
 ** For us ? — W^hat can you mean, Mr. Mas-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 11 
 
 singberd ? — My nearest neighbour, — the only 
 woman of my own condition of life I have to 
 speak to, from one year's end to the other !" 
 
 " I congratulate you, my dear. I was not 
 aware that you ranked me at an Earldom. Of 
 whatever condition of life, however, — as Lady 
 Greville and yourself seldom speak to each 
 other above once a fortnight, and then usually 
 to say disagreeable truths to each other, — I can- 
 not suppose that her society is any material loss." 
 
 " Whose fault is it, pray, that we do not 
 meet oftener ? — When have I ever the free use 
 of the horses ?" — 
 
 " As Lady Greville has always a stable-full at 
 her disposal — " 
 
 "Lady Greville is too nice a judge of eti- 
 quette to return my visits oftener than I pay 
 them," — interrupted Mrs. Massingberd. ''How- 
 ever, I appreciate her good intentions towards 
 me. — I know she is aware that I am not my 
 own mistress, or that I should see more of her ; 
 and, in spite of your polite hint about the filberts, 
 Mr. Massingberd, I must say I think I have 
 some excuse for being out of spirits after part- 
 ing with so old a friend."
 
 12 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 " Friend /" — murmured the squire between his 
 teeth — reflecting upon the three or four dull din- 
 ners a-year exchanged between Greville Abbey 
 and Hill Hall, the usual frigid medium of 
 country neighbourship. 
 
 '' Yes, friend ! — I wish you could know the 
 handsome things poor dear Lady Greville said 
 of me the other day at the Vicarage, in her 
 farewell visit to Mrs. Graves !" — 
 
 '' She knew they would be repeated to you 
 before the day was over. — Besides, they say 
 there is nothing on earth so disagreeable that it 
 does not inspire regret when seen for the last 
 time.'' 
 
 '' Thank you, Mr. Massingberd ! — But with- 
 out stooping to notice your insult, let me beg 
 you not to advert to such a possibility as my hav- 
 ing seen the last of poor dear Lady Greville!" — 
 
 " Why, perhaps I am too sanguine. I dare 
 say we shall have her back next year.'* 
 
 '* You are really shameful ! — What in the 
 world has she ever done to offend or annoy you ?" 
 
 *' Me ? — nothing ! — Except occasionally eat- 
 ing her venison, and giving her my mutton in 
 return, I have little or no intercourse, thank
 
 A SEASON. IN PARIS. 13 
 
 God, with the lady of your own condition of 
 life, whose departure from England has given 
 you a nervous headache." 
 
 *' Then why speak so unkindly ?" — 
 *' I had no wish to talk about her — you 
 would make me. And if I must give my opi- 
 nion, it is that we have no loss in the Coun- 
 tess, — that she is a cold-hearted, narrow-minded 
 woman, — that she cares no more for us than I 
 for her, — which does not much signify,— and 
 that she is making a spoony of that fine young 
 man her son, which doesT — 
 
 " What do you mean to say next !" cried 
 Mrs. Massingberd. *« The most exemplary mo- 
 ther in England ! — Left a widow at six-and- 
 twenty — and single all these years for the sake 
 of her only son !" — 
 
 " What temptation had she to do otherwise ? 
 I remember everybody wondered when the late 
 Lord Greville married her, — a poor yea-nay 
 creature, without beauty or accomplishment! — 
 She has learned to say yes and no since, with a 
 vengeance, but she is grown neither wiser nor
 
 ]4 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 " I am well aware that you consider all 
 women fools. Men quite as sensible as your- 
 self, however, have pronounced Lady Greville 
 to be a very superior woman." 
 
 '' Ay, ay ! — old Graves, and Anodyne, the 
 apothecary !" — 
 
 " No, Mr. Massingberd ; — Lord Brooks and 
 Sir Thomas Hardy." 
 
 "Ay, ay ! — electioneering interests, — conser- 
 vative combination ! — No matter, she has taken 
 herself off, and taken her son off, and I don't 
 know why we waste our time in talking about 
 either of them." 
 
 " I am not aware that we have anything more 
 interesting to discuss — that is, more interesting 
 to me ^" — resumed Mrs. Massingberd, with an- 
 other doleful sigh. " Poor dear Lady Greville 's 
 impaired health " 
 
 *' Fiddlesticks, health !" — interrupted the 
 squire, growing really out of humour. " There 
 is no more the matter with the woman than 
 with one of my cart-horses ; — Anodyne as good 
 as told me so. But she always hated the Abbey, 
 she always hated the neighbourhood. She only
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 15 
 
 resided here in compliance with her husband's 
 will; and because she was better able to keep 
 that poor lad under her thumb in this secluded 
 place, than if she had given him free range in 
 town. And now you'll see the end of it. He'll 
 escape her at last. The boy knows nothing of 
 the world. He'll be pigeoned and duped on all 
 sides. In Italy he'll be ruined by picture- 
 dealers ; — in France, by opera-dancers. — He'll 
 play;— he'll » 
 
 " You really speak as if you were pleased at 
 the idea !" — cried Mrs. Massingberd, preparing, 
 in majestic ire, to repair to the drawing-room. 
 
 " No, I don't !" — rejoined the squire, for once 
 rising to follow her without staying for the re- 
 freshment of his usual doze. " I'm heartily sorry 
 for it. The lad, as he came from the hands of 
 his Maker, is as fine a youth as ever I saw. But 
 he has been so trained and documented, so re- 
 stricted and decorumized, that I wouldn't give 
 a rush for him ! — My boy Fred, with half his 
 understanding and a quarter of his information, 
 is worth a dozen Lord Grevilles !" — 
 
 *' I am very glad you think so, Mr. Massing-
 
 16 GREVILLE ; ORj 
 
 herd. I hope you may continue of the same 
 opinion when your Christmas bills come in. 
 When I see Frederick Massingberd exhibit the 
 same respect for his parents that I see the 
 young Earl testify towards poor dear Lady 
 Greviile " 
 
 '« Pho, pho ! — Greviile is so deucedly in awe 
 of his mother, that he daren't say his soul's his 
 own. And if you expect a spirited young fellow 
 like Fred to shew any such contemptible sub- 
 serviency " 
 
 " Indeed I do not ! — You have trained him 
 in a very different school." 
 
 " I hope so. Between me and my son, all is 
 frank and above board. He knows with whom 
 he has to deal, and what he has to expect. 
 Whereas the noble widow, the excellent mother, 
 the woman of your own condition of life yonder 
 at the Abbey, never opened her heart to her son 
 in her whole life, — if, indeed, she have a heart 
 to open, — which I doubt. Her gentleness is 
 cold-bloodedness, — her mildness, mere hypo- 
 crisy. < The stillest streams' — the proverb's 
 somewhat musty." —
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 17 
 
 " Musty indeed !" — sneered Mrs. Massing- 
 berd, unconscious of the quotation. " But I am 
 sorry to have put you into a passion. — I did not 
 intend to excite you in this way. — Perhaps we 
 had better drop the subject. — I daresay the 
 evening papers are arrived." — And she rang the 
 drawing-room bell with an air of magnanimity ; 
 pleased to have extorted from her usually taci- 
 turn mate at least thrice the portion of con- 
 versation with which he was in the habit of 
 enlivening their conjugal tete-d-tetes.
 
 18 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 La Comtesse avait r^ussi au dela de ses esperances. En 
 retour d'un devouement dont la gravite fortifiait latendresse, 
 elle avait obtenu de son elbve une soumission sans bornes, 
 un respect digne des temps antiques. 
 
 L'Arbre de Science. 
 
 The young Earl of Greville, the object of so 
 much soHcitude on the part of his mother and 
 of discussion in the dining-room at Hill Hall, 
 possessed considerable personal endowments, in 
 addition to those of wealth and aristocratic in- 
 heritance. 
 
 Above the common height, his figure was well 
 shaped and proportioned. His complexion was 
 fair, — almost too fair for a man ; particularly as 
 the slightest excitement of mind, or even em-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 19 
 
 barrassraent of manner, sent the eloquent blood 
 flushing even to the roots of his somewhat re- 
 dundant brown hair. But his forehead was 
 expansive and noble, his mouth expressive; and 
 his countenance redeemed from the insipidity 
 commonly attributed to Mondins, by the dark 
 eyebrows and eyelashes surmounting his full 
 grey eyes. On the whole, he was what is called 
 strikingly handsome ; — that is, strikingly hand- 
 some for an unmarried earl, with a rent-roll of 
 forty thousand a-year. 
 
 Still, Mr. Massingberd was right. His air 
 was deficient, his manners were defective. In 
 direct opposition to the faults and foibles of the 
 age, he was too reserved, too diffident. He had 
 declined addressing his tenants at a dinner pre- 
 vious to his departure for the Continent, at which 
 his health had been " drunk with unbounded 
 applause ;" and Lord Brooks, who at present 
 retained the control of his parliamentary in- 
 terest, felt satisfied that the young Earl would 
 never find courage to support in the Lords the 
 principles advocated by his delegates in the 
 Commons. He might be clever and well in-
 
 20 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 formed, but he wanted conversational power, — 
 the ready money so much more available than 
 consols or exchequer bills. 
 
 " A sensible youth, — but devoid of all energy 
 or ambition !'* was the private hint of Lord 
 Brooks to the minister, who inquired into the 
 nature and politics of the young Earl possessing 
 so large a stake in the country. 
 
 " A raw, shy young man, who hates dancing, 
 and blushes when a woman speaks to him !" was 
 the information of Lady Brooks to Lady Hardy ; 
 and it was tlie invitation despatched to Lord 
 Greville, in consequence of this intelligence, to 
 join a party at Sir Thomas Hardy's, to shoot his 
 pheasants and be shot at by his daughters, that 
 eventually accelerated the departure of the 
 Countess from Greville Abbey. 
 
 It was, in fact, impossible to be more reso- 
 lutely determined than her ladyship to post- 
 pone to the latest moment the epoch of her 
 dowagerhood. Her interests and affections were 
 equally engaged in the struggle. For one 
 and twenty years, her son had engrossed her 
 care and attention ; and as Lady Greville was
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 21 
 
 arrived at a period of life when her care and 
 attention were of little importance to any other 
 human being, any event that tended to dissever 
 her from the young Earl was a decree of bank- 
 ruptcy. 
 
 Greville Abbey, too, was a place of her own 
 creation. Totally neglected during the reign of 
 her valetudinarian husband, she had found a 
 desert, and founded a paradise. It was true 
 she had done all this at the expense of other 
 people's taste and her son's money, — without de- 
 sign, without intelligence. But it was something 
 to have done it. She was as proud of the fine 
 gardens which brought all the county to admire 
 them, as she was of the handsome young son, 
 for whom she seemed to dread a similar destiny ; 
 and, glorying in her supremacy both as mistress 
 of the family seat and mother of the earl, with 
 the short-sightedness of human wisdom she 
 exiled herself from the spot during the last years 
 of her regality, lest her sway should be prema- 
 turely divided. 
 
 The aifection of Lord Greville for his mother, 
 meanwhile, was of a nature even yet more ex-
 
 22 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 elusive. He loved nothing else on earth ; or if 
 he loved Greville Abbey, it was as owing its 
 merit to her superintendence. His childhood and 
 youth had been surrounded by the parasites of 
 his mother, by whom he was accustomed to hear 
 her described and addressed as a being of super- 
 human excellence ; and though their neighbour 
 Lady Brooks was a beauty, and their neighbour 
 Lady Hardy one of the finest musicians of the 
 day, Greville had been taught to believe that 
 the Countess was handsomer and more accom- 
 plished than either. 
 
 It might have touched a warmer heart than 
 that of " poor dear Lady Greville" to see the 
 eagerness with which their expatriation was 
 seconded by her unsuspecting son, from the 
 moment the state of her health was cited as an 
 incentive to the measure. Though a middle- 
 aged countess is rarely included among the sin- 
 gular varieties of freight authorized by the 
 whims and caprices of the Royal Yacht Club, 
 Greville was eager in oflPering a passage to 
 Naples to his mother; till satisfied, by her 
 repeated assurances, that she preferred trans-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 23 
 
 ferring herself thither by land. His next object 
 was to precede and provide for her coming; 
 and if the young Earl were eventually per- 
 suaded into leaving his mother at Naples, and 
 proceeding on his projected tour in the East, it 
 was not till he had obtained professional certifi- 
 cation that Lady Greville was free from all per- 
 sonal ailment, and that her nervous disorder 
 would be more speedily benefited by being forced 
 into the society of strangers. 
 
 Thus enfranchised, young Greville set sail 
 for the Levant. It was the first outbreak of his 
 independence. He was master of himself and 
 his yacht; and dearly as he loved his mother, it 
 was somethinor to feel freed from a frustrating 
 influence. Though Lady Greville's power over 
 his mind had been obtained by ministering to its 
 caprices, he was not sorry to be able to provide 
 for his own. — Those only who have been uni- 
 formly subjected to control, can understand the 
 deliffht of beinoj able so much as to eat one's 
 dinner at one's own time and discretion. — 
 
 And now, " the world was all before him where 
 to choose !" — He spent weeks at Athens, — weeks
 
 24 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 at Constantinople, — Smyrna, — Damascus; where 
 a cultivated education supplied him with the 
 means of extracting double enjoyment from the 
 scenes of classic story and oriental romance. 
 The impulses of youth and health were fresh 
 upon him. 
 
 His tent on shore, his galley on the sea, 
 
 enabled him to taste the raptures described by 
 most travellers in the East, from Chateaubriand 
 anH Byron down to the menu fretin of fashion- 
 able ramblers, smitten of late years with a passion 
 for crocodiles and hieroglyphics. 
 
 It was not till the spring that Lord Greville 
 returned to Naples. The Countess, who had 
 no wish to entangle him in the mob of English 
 absentees besetting the Chiaja during the winter 
 months, had been unvarying in her entreaties to 
 him to enjoy to the utmost his facilities for sur- 
 veying countries he was unlikely to revisit; and 
 when, at the close of March, she had the happi- 
 ness of folding him once more in her arms, it was 
 a genuine impulse of motherly tenderness that 
 caused her to exult in his fine manly appearance,
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 25 
 
 knit into firmer vigour, and bronzed into manlier 
 grace, by exposure to the hazards of sea and 
 land in tropical climates. For a moment, she 
 felt sincerely proud of her handsome Hugo; 
 for a moment she fancied that it would be a 
 triumphant thing to see him figure at the court 
 of Naples, and in the dull coteries of high-born 
 English among whom she had been dozing 
 away her winter. 
 
 " You will find a few pleasant people here," 
 said she. *' The English set is somewhat 
 broken up ; — most of them are off for Rome, for 
 the ceremonies of the holy week. But there are 
 the old Marquis of Droneham and his two 
 daughters, — the Dowager Lady Dawdle, the 
 Ebsworths, the Macmichaels, and Lady Louisa 
 Clare. We make up our whist every evening." 
 
 " So you wrote me word. I was delighted, 
 my dear mother, to find you were passing your 
 time so agreeably." 
 
 " The Droneham's talk of spending the 
 summer at Sorrento, — the Ebsworths and Mac- 
 michaels are going to Lucca. I have scarcely 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 made up my mind which of the two parties I 
 shall join." 
 
 " I thought — I fancied — " hesitated Gre- 
 ville, — " that you intended returning to Eng- 
 land ?"— 
 
 « To Greville Abbey ?"— 
 
 ** To London, — for the season." 
 
 " The season f — reiterated the Countess, who 
 had never before heard that cabalistic word es- 
 cape the lips of her son. ''A season in London 
 would destroy at once all the benefit I have de- 
 rived from my residence abroad !" — 
 
 " In that case, to the Abbey at once," frankly 
 resumed her son. '' If you remember, you 
 desired me to pledge myself at the tenants* 
 dinner, that our absence should not be pro- 
 longed beyond the summer." 
 
 •* Did I ? — At the tenants' dinner ?— I don't 
 remember anything of the kind. At all events, 
 it can be of no importance to them, Dowdes- 
 well manages everything during our absence 
 with the most impartial regard to their interests ; 
 and as you have no tie at present in the House 
 of Lords—"
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 27 
 
 '' True/' interrupted Greville, in an absent, 
 careless tone. " I do not see what object there 
 was in making a declaration on the subject. 
 However, as the pledge was given — " 
 
 '* There will be quite sufficient excuse for re- 
 suming it, in the state of my health/' rejoined 
 the Countess, coolly, " You have no particular 
 attachment to London, or taste for the crowds 
 of heated ball-rooms — " 
 
 " None whatever," again and more eagerly in- 
 terrupted Greville. " But I am just as little 
 inclined to reek away the summer in a southern 
 climate. I have promised Massingberd a 
 month's shooting at the Abbey in September. 
 The interval, I should like to spend in Switzer- 
 land or Germany." 
 
 " Massingberd ?" — repeated Lady Greville, in 
 some surprise. 
 
 '* Fred Massingberd, whom I met in quaran- 
 tine at Malta, and to whom I gave a cast hither 
 in my yacht." 
 
 " The son, I presume, of those people at Hill 
 Hall ?"— 
 
 " The son of the Massingberds of Hill Hall. 
 c2
 
 28 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 Old Massingberd, I am told, was a great friend 
 of my father." 
 
 " His nearest country neighbour, which in 
 England is a common substitute for friendship," 
 replied Lady Greville, taking up her work as 
 some cover to her surprise and embarrassment. 
 
 " Fred came to Naples last autumn with 
 the Cobhams, with whom you are acquainted/' 
 resumed her son. '' Lady Cobham, I fancy, is 
 one of his sisters ?" — 
 
 '* Yes, — we visit, — I am slightly acquainted 
 with her. The Cobhams are gone to Rome." 
 
 " No — they have been waiting here for 
 Fred Massingberd, who has been making ex- 
 cursions in the Mediterranean. I have half 
 promised to join their party when they quit 
 this place, as I fear I shall be too active a com- 
 pagnon de voyage for an invalid like yourself." 
 
 " Certainly — you cannot do better" — replied 
 Lady Greville, with apparent unconcern ; too 
 experienced in her vocation to exhibit, and con- 
 sequently call forth, a spirit of resistance ; nor 
 was it till she had taken leave of her son for the 
 night, that she addressed herself to deliberate
 
 A SEASON IX PARIS. 29 
 
 cogitation upon the evils likely to arise from his 
 sudden intimacy with young Massingberd and 
 his relations. 
 
 The family at Hill Hall were people whom 
 she would have disliked, had she not despised 
 them. They were neither subservients nor 
 equals. Old Massingberd had opposed her 
 projects on various occasions of county interest; 
 and his wife, who, till the marriage of her two 
 daughters, was in the habit of spending her 
 season in town, had proved the sort of standing 
 bore which most country neighbours are felt to 
 be by the great ladies of their county, from the 
 moment they set foot in the metrapolis ; — always 
 wanting to be introduced to somebody out of 
 their sphere, or to obtain an invitation to some 
 party out of their reach ; and having nothing to 
 offer in return, but their fussy thanks and hum- 
 drum society. 
 
 Even in Oxfordshire, she saw as little of them 
 as she could help. They were the sort of res 
 pectable people whose family affairs afforded 
 little to excite interest or surprise. She knew 
 they had a son, nearly of Hugo's age ; but she
 
 30 greville; or, 
 
 remembered him only as an insignificant young 
 man, of no manner of consequence except to the 
 small estate he was to inherit. The daughters 
 were pretty insipid girls ; and it was a relief to 
 her when Julia Massingberd married Sir James 
 Cobham, and Mary, a few months afterwards, a 
 country clergyman; as it abridged the Hill 
 Hall party when they came to dine at the 
 Abbey, and afforded some diversification to 
 Mrs. . Massingberd's family narratives, when 
 they victimized each other with morning visits. 
 As to giving her attention to the pretensions of 
 either, or interesting herself in the destinies of 
 those whom she had seen expand from girl- 
 hood to womanhood, it was an effort beyond the 
 limit of her profound selfishness. 
 
 Lady Greville now began to regret her igno- 
 rance and inattention. What was this Fred 
 Massingberd, — who were these Cobhams, — to 
 whom accident might assign so much influence? 
 The young man might be half a foot shorter 
 than her son, and yet dangerous. The Cob- 
 hams? — There was no saying what mischiefs 
 misht not be concentrated in the Cobhams ! —
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 31 
 
 Sir James, as well as she could recollect, was a 
 sporting man, — a rider of steeple-chases. He 
 was perhaps a gambler, — perhaps on the turf! 
 Lady Cobham belonged, she was pretty nearly 
 sure, to the class of pretty young married 
 Englishwomen who drive about with a carriage- 
 full of nurses and children covered with lace 
 frills and huge cockades, in whom they invest 
 their vanity rather than in their own silken 
 ringlets and delicate complexions. But she 
 might be mistaken. Instead of one of these 
 gentle nonentities, Lady Cobham might be a 
 designing coquette; and though there was no 
 unmarried sister in the case, who was to insure 
 her against a young cousin or a pet friend ? — 
 The Countess resolved at once upon a violent 
 taste for Mont Blanc and the mer de glace ; or, 
 if the German Spas were to be the order of the 
 summer, she had as much right to be ordered to 
 Baden or Tbplitz as any member of the Mas- 
 singberd family. She must not, at such a 
 critical moment, lose sight of the Earl I — 
 
 It was some relief to her fears that, on the 
 morrow, she experienced no opposition from
 
 3'2 greville; or, 
 
 Hugo. Young Greville*s heart was yet warm 
 with the joy of his return to the mother from 
 whom he had borne so long a separation. All 
 the little presents collected for her on his tra- 
 vels, were accepted with even more than her 
 usual graciousness. Never had he seen her so 
 affectionate, — so ingratiating. — -Never had he 
 felt more strongly her claims upon the time and 
 tenderness of the only son to whom her own had 
 been* exclusively devoted. As yet, indeed, he 
 was unconscious that such claims could ever 
 become importunate, for as yet no tie existed to 
 interfere with their exercise ; and he accordingly 
 announced to Massingberd that his mother was 
 anxious to join their travelling party, as if 
 affording a considerable addition to its plea- 
 sures. 
 
 " Your mother, my dear fellow ?" — exclaimed 
 Fred, as much amazed as if he had been 
 threatened with the company of the lady of 
 Loretto, or her of Hill Hall. — " And what the 
 deuce are we to do with her ?" — 
 
 " She will have her own carriage and ser- 
 vants," replied Greville, «' as the Cobhams
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 33 
 
 theirs ; and you and I can travel in my dor- 
 
 " Of course ; — but think of the gine of the 
 thing ! — At Rome, — at Florence, — Milan, — 
 Paris, — everywhere, — we shall be so cursedly 
 hampered with all these petticoats ! — Julia we 
 might easily throw over ; Cobham is bound to 
 take care of her, — But think of beauing about 
 Lady Greville all the way from St. Peter's to 
 St. Paul's ! — My dear boy, you don't know 
 what you have undertaken !" — 
 
 Greville's cheeks were suffused for a mo- 
 ment. Eton and Oxford had done some- 
 thing towards habituating him to the brazen 
 slang of the day. But it was nearly two 
 years since he left college, and under no 
 circumstance had he heard the name of his 
 mother thus roughly approached. Still, it 
 was difficult to be angry with his cool off-hand 
 friend. 
 
 " I perceive you have forgotten my mother, 
 
 or you would not talk of her as an incumbrance. 
 
 She is twice as young and handsome as the 
 
 General's wife to whom I saw you paying such 
 
 c 3
 
 84 
 
 greville; or, 
 
 assiduous court at Valetta," said he, with a smile. 
 « Ask the Cobhams!"— 
 
 '' I beg your pardon ; — I remember her per- 
 fectly. — I have a distinct recollection of the cold 
 proprieties of our dinner, two winters ago, at Gre- 
 ville Abbey !" — cried Massingberd. "As to Julia, 
 she was always frightened out of her wits at Lady 
 Greville; and Cobham counts for nothing, as 
 he hates all female society except that of his wife." 
 
 " Then I am afraid I must declare off from 
 your party," was Lord Greville's resolute reply. 
 " I have left my mother alone here all the win- 
 ter to pursue my own diversions ; and feel that 
 I owe my summer to her, particularly so long as 
 she remains abroad.'* 
 
 " You mean, in short, to attach yourself to 
 mamma's apron-string for the remainder of your 
 days!" — cried Massingberd, with a provoking 
 laugh. " My dear Grev., I thought there was 
 more bottom in you ! — 'Tis no fault of yours, of 
 course, that your father's will makes you a blank 
 in creation till five-and-twenty ; but I fancied 
 you had too much nous not to lengthen your 
 leading-strings so as to make them hang easy."
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 35 
 
 <* My mother has taken care never to render 
 them irksome," replied Greville, frankly ; " and 
 I have therefore no excuse for thwarting her in 
 matters of indifference." 
 
 " Matters of indifference ?" — cried Massing- 
 berd, shrugging his shoulders. " Our expedi- 
 tion to Paris, a matter of indifference ? — Think 
 of all the glorious fun we had promised our- 
 selves !" — 
 
 " And what occasion have we to break our 
 promise? — I mean to amuse myself to the ut- 
 most I"— 
 
 " Amuse yourself ? — with a family party ? — 
 under the eyes of its mamma ? — Better engage 
 a travelling tutor at once ; or dismiss your cou- 
 rier, and hire the sec. of the Society for the 
 Suppression of Vice, to keep our cash book !" — 
 
 Lord Greville laughed, for he saw that a laugh 
 was expected. Still, he ventured to persist that 
 it would be impossible to break his engagement 
 with the Countess. 
 
 " Not impossible,— only difficult," — retorted 
 Massingberd. " At Rome, we will turn Lady 
 Greville over to the Cobhams, and go forward
 
 36 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 to secure accommodation for the party. Let us 
 all start fair together, and leave the rest to 
 me." 
 
 Fred Massingberd had, in fact, determined 
 that a considerable portion of Lord Greville's 
 arrangements should for the future be left to 
 him. Idle, expensive, and dissolute, he taxed 
 his father's resources to the utmost for the 
 entertainment of his pleasant vices. The old 
 gentleman was indulgent, weakly indulgent, 
 to the excesses of the only son in whom his 
 soul delighted. But an income of three thou- 
 sand a year, hampered to pay off his daugh- 
 ters' fortunes and keep up his county respecta- 
 bility, could not afford a sufficiently liberal 
 allowance for a young gentleman of Frederick's 
 pretensions. Young Massingberd was fond of 
 hunting, shooting, and yachting, hazard, cham- 
 pagne, and the opera; had his corner at Crock- 
 ford's and in the omnibus, his name in the books 
 of Cooke and Inkson, Adams and Forsyth. 
 This was perhaps " pushing the duke'* too 
 far for the son of an Oxfordshire squire ; and 
 it naturally followed that he became shabby.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 37 
 
 as a penalty for having pretended to be too 
 fine. 
 
 In accepting his brother-in-law's proposal to 
 spend the winter with them at Naples, he had 
 been actuated rather by anxiety to keep out of 
 the way of his Christmas bills and his father's 
 indignation, than by any desire to visit the fine 
 scenery of Italy. Cobham he considered a bore, 
 except at his hunting box in Leicestershire, with a 
 good stable at his disposal; — Julia, everywhere; — 
 and when, at the close of an expedition to Malta, 
 planned to get rid of his ennui in their society, 
 he stumbled upon his country neighbour and 
 Oxford chum. Lord Greville, the wandering 
 roue saluted him as sent by the express hand 
 of fortune to his relief. 
 
 There was much in the deportment of Mas- 
 singberd to win the fancy of a very young and 
 very reserved man. Fred was a man of ten 
 years' knowledge of the world, — Fred had been 
 a man from the day he set foot in Eton. He 
 was now almost an old man, or, at least, an old 
 dandy; — hard, insolent, jovial, and, of course, 
 " the best fellow in the world."
 
 38 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 He was good looking, too, though described 
 by Lady Greville as insignificant. Deficiency 
 of stature was atoned by exquisite finish in his 
 toilet and deportment. He was one of those 
 whom ladies love to look on, — that is, very 
 young ladies or very old ones, — lounging in 
 the corner of a well turned-out cabriolet, or 
 leaning superciliously against the door of a 
 crowded ball-room. 
 
 Such was the worst of Fred Massingberd. 
 The best was, that he was livelier than the 
 average of nothings of the same class, — ever- 
 more floating on the surface of London society.
 
 A SEASON IN TARIS. 39 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 II n'est pas connoissable depuis qu'il me hante, ce peti 
 homme. II est vrai que je n'ai pas mon pareil pour de- 
 bourgeoiser un enfant de famille ! 
 
 Regnard. 
 
 Between a positive old woman and a positive 
 young man, the match is pretty nearly equal. 
 Lady Greville was determined to take her de- 
 parture from Naples in company with her son ; 
 Fred Massingberd no less so that Lord Greville 
 should not reach Milan in company with his 
 mother. Both succeeded in their projects. 
 
 The English, though by nature less gregarious 
 than other nations, are apt to become sociable 
 on the highway. If fond of staying at home in
 
 40 grEville ; or, 
 
 solitude, they delight to travel in parties ; and 
 the Cobhams were accordingly enchanted with 
 the idea of having the Countess of Greville and 
 her son superadded to their caravan. It looked 
 well in the road-books ; it would sound well at 
 Cobham Park and Hill Hall ; to say nothing of 
 the charming difficulties of having twelve pair 
 of post-horses in request, and the certainty of 
 sleeping in their carriages for want of beds, at 
 more -than one country inn on the road. 
 
 Sir James and Lady Cobham, indeed, 
 being people of fortune, made their tour 
 as uncomfortable as people in independent cir- 
 cumstances have a right to do. Sir James 
 was accompanied by an English butler, who 
 " valeted" his master, and twice every day ag- 
 gravated his discontents with hints of the im- 
 positions of the '« rascal of a currier," and grum- 
 bling against the privations of foreign diet ; while 
 his lady was equally happy in the feuds and 
 miseries of two English nurses and a lady's- 
 maid. Wherever they stopped for the night, 
 squabbles and miscomprehensions set the whole 
 establishment in an uproar ; and it was no great
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 41 
 
 Stretch of candour on the part of Fred Mas- 
 singberd to admit, before they quitted Rome, 
 that the mild, well-bred Countess was a plea- 
 santer travelling companion, than the pretty silly 
 Julia, whose maternal solicitudes were always in 
 paroxysms ; or the sulky Baronet, who, fancying 
 himself ill-used whenever his wife was not ready 
 to give him her exclusive attention, was inces- 
 santly quarrelling with her out of pure conjugal 
 affection. 
 
 " By Jove, what nuisances they all are !" — cried 
 Massingberd, seizing Greville's arm, as they 
 sallied forth together, after one of those vain 
 attempts to organize a party to the opera at 
 Bologna, which characterize the insensibility of 
 the English to dramatic entertainments. " Un- 
 less they are able to do exactly what they like 
 in precisely their own way of doing it, they 
 would rather sit at home grumbling at each 
 other by way of passe temps. My dear fellow, 
 this will never do ! For the love of mercy, make 
 up your mind, or let me make it up for you, to 
 be off for Paris to-morrow. Leave me to make 
 our story good to Lady Greville, and I answer 
 for her approval."
 
 42 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 And the approval of the Countess was given 
 with so much plausible acquiescence in Mas- 
 singberd's arguments, that even he, the worldly 
 wise, little suspected she was growing anxious 
 touching Sir James Cobham's discovery that 
 Lord Greville was too young and too hand- 
 some, and his wife too young and too pretty, 
 to render their nearer intimacy either safe or 
 desirable. 
 
 Two days afterwards, the young men were en 
 route for Florence ; and though Greville had 
 stoutly denied to his companion that his mother's 
 presence was ever the slightest restraint upon 
 him, he was forced to admit, even to Fred, 
 even to himself, that he now more fully appre- 
 ciated the delights of an Italian tour. They 
 visited Venice ; and uttered the usual niaiseries, 
 concerning Byron, the Bridge of Sighs, Desde- 
 mona, and the Bravos I. and II. of Monk Lewis 
 and Cooper. They spent a happy week among 
 the gay coteries of Milan ; gossiped away their 
 evenings at the Scala, and gossiped away their 
 mornings talking of the preceding evenings 
 They loitered at Como ; — they lingered here, 
 and idled there ; — and, while swearing to each
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 43 
 
 Other fifty times a-day that nothing could ex- 
 ceed the beauties of Italy, animate and inani- 
 mate, found themselves gradually attracted across 
 the frontier of the enchanting, though frightful 
 country, which, as Stendhal hath it, " calls itself 
 la belle France,^^ On a warm evening early in 
 May, the travellers found themselves yawning in 
 each other's faces over an indifferent dinner, in 
 a small inn in the little town of Dole. 
 
 *' After all, they make a better fricandeau any- 
 where than in the mother country V cried Fred, 
 pushing aside a plateful of dry threads which he 
 had accepted under the designation of that 
 ubiquitous plat '' For Heaven's sake, my dear 
 Grev., let this be our last stage to Paris. The 
 weather is delicious, — your carriage twenty times 
 easier to sleep in than the stuffy bed-room of a 
 way-side inn. Two nights more, and we shall 
 be comfortably lodged at the Bristol!" — 
 
 " I hate travelling all night when there is no 
 occasion for it," replied Greville, who was be- 
 ginning to discover that the selfishness of his 
 particular friend was a more irksome burthen 
 than the discreet authority of his mother.
 
 44 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 "Bat there is occasion for it, with such a 
 world of enjoyment before us !" cried Massing- 
 herd, — and he forthwith began reciting aloud 
 from a copy of the Journal des Debats that 
 lay on the table, a rhapsody of Jules Janin upon 
 the merits of the new ballet. 
 
 *' We may see it on Monday instead of Friday, 
 I suppose, and survive the postponement," re- 
 plied Greville, carelessly. 
 
 " By Heavens ! — I do believe it is that cursed 
 old brown Noah's-ark of a travelling carriage 
 that tempts you to dawdle thus on the road !" 
 cried Massingberd, in a rage. '* I saw you look- 
 ing down upon it, from the last cote we ascended 
 this evening; and if the old gentleman were 
 half as clear-sighted as myself, or his daughters 
 half as " 
 
 " Hush — hush !" — interrupted Lord Greville, 
 with anxious impatience, — " they are lodged in 
 the very next room." 
 
 " The devil they are ! — I couldn't understand 
 what you and Giacchimo were whispering about 
 so mysteriously, before dinner. Impart, my dear 
 fellow, impart ! — or expect nothing from my con-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 45 
 
 federacy. What have you discovered ? — Who 
 are they? — Whither bound? — Milanese shop- 
 keepers, eh ? — or Russian princesses ? — or — *' 
 
 " Let me once more entreat you to moderate 
 your voice/' said Greville, in a tone of repressed 
 indignation ; — '' the partition is thin — *' 
 
 '' And you are afraid that the interesting 
 young man in the white paletot will stand 
 accountant for my noise and my nonsense ! — 
 Not a bit ! — I have taken care, every time we 
 met, since we crossed the frontier, that they 
 should have an opportunity of becoming ac- 
 quainted with my voice and character, as well 
 as with your personal merits. You have stared, 
 / have talked them out of countenance. On 
 more occasions than one I — " 
 
 *' You will talk me out of patience, if you 
 persist in making such an infernal noise !" — inter- 
 rupted Greville, perceiving that his companion's 
 volubility increased in proportion as the bottle 
 of Verzenay by his side gradually diminished ; 
 and he felt that the calm, well-bred Countess of 
 Greville would have been at that moment a 
 more ao^reeable associate for his travels, than 
 even the wittiest of roues.
 
 46 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 " Be candid, and/ will be quiet !" — continued 
 Massingberd, in his former elevated key. " Tell 
 me half you know, and you may command my 
 whole discretion ! — What is their courier's story 
 about them ? — and what is yours ?" — 
 
 " Story ! God bless you, I have none to tell. Sir," 
 
 replied Greville, finding it safer to humour than 
 to oppose him. '^ Giacchimo has discovered no 
 more than we already knew ; — namely, that our 
 charming neighbours are French." 
 
 " Indeed, I knew no such thins !" — 
 
 " You might have made the discovery by the 
 same means you are taking to apprize them that 
 we are English — and brutes into the bargain ! 
 I overheard the old gentleman giving his orders 
 to the postilions in French that was not to be 
 mistaken for any other than Parisian." 
 
 " Bah I — as if you — an Etonian, and never 
 having set foot in Paris, — knew a word about 
 the matter ! — I dare, say the old fellow's u was 
 as broad Italian as that of the most legitimate 
 gobbler of maccaroni in the two Sicilies !" — 
 
 *< As you please ; — or as broad as your own 
 assertion, which is as broad as it is long. How-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 47 
 
 ever, as I do not intend to persecute my fair 
 neighbours, of whatever nation, with the fumes 
 of my cigar in addition to the noise of my 
 companion, I shall hasten to enjoy my siesta in 
 my own room." 
 
 " That is, you are going to lounge on the 
 Place, in the hopes of a glimpse into their apart- 
 ment," cried Massingberd, who was beginning to 
 clip his words under the influence of cham- 
 pagne. " How the deuce, pray, are the fumes 
 of your cigar to penetrate a wooden partition, 
 sans crack or flaw, or door condemned or 
 
 condemnable ? — Go, and be , I spare you 
 
 the participle, in deference to the ears of your 
 lovely neighbours, — whether Parisian or Ota- 
 heitan. — Meanwhile, I bet you the first nap I 
 ever had in my purse (and here it is) that I 
 obtain more information concerning our fellow- 
 travellers without budging from table, than 
 you and Giacchimo together by your united 
 eloquence, bribery, and corruption." 
 
 The bet was a drawn one. As Greville rose 
 to quit the room, somewhat irritated by the 
 noisy pertinacity of his friend, the loud clacking
 
 48 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 of what he supposed to be a courier's whip and 
 the galloping of a horse past the windows, 
 which were on the ground-floor overlooking the 
 inn-yardj distracted their attention ; and in 
 another minute, the adjoining room emitted 
 evidences of volubility quite as remarkable as 
 those which he had checked in Massingberd. 
 
 Loud salutations uttered in a deep masculine 
 voice, and exclamations of " My dear Gustave !" 
 " My charming cousins !" were followed by a 
 series of questions and answers, which clearly 
 proved the travellers to be French, and pro- 
 ceeding to Paris from Italy, where they had 
 been passing the winter for the benefit of the old 
 gentleman, a Marquis, and an invalid ; — but 
 whether the " belle Sophie" and " charmante 
 Eugenie" apostrophized by the new comer 
 were the said Marquis's daughters or nieces, 
 remained doubtful. One thing was clearly 
 established; that, whatever might be the con- 
 dition or politics of the travellers, Gustave was 
 a Carlist colonel, living in retirement on his 
 estate; come by especial appointment for a 
 passing interview with his cousins on their road
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 49 
 
 to the capital; and that unless he could per- 
 suade them to diverge from their route on the 
 morrow to visit his chateau, Lord Greville and 
 his friend were likely to meet them again and 
 again as they proceeded. 
 
 " And what on earth takes you to Paris in 
 such haste at this season of the year?" — demanded 
 the Colonel, on finding slight hopes held out to 
 him of the favour he had been soliciting. 
 
 " We have much business to settle, after six 
 months' absence," replied the feeble voice of the 
 Marquis, " previous to repairing to Les Etangs 
 for the summer." 
 
 " Where I earnestly hope you will come and 
 visit us," added the silver tones of one of the 
 fair cousins; and the two young men, involun- 
 tary auditors of the conversation, could easily 
 conjecture the smiling bow with which such an 
 invitation must be accepted. 
 
 " Besides," added the second female voice, 
 " though the carnival and its balls are over, 
 Paris is never pleasanter than during the month 
 of May. It has become the fashion, you know, 
 for the Faubourg to give its fetes after Easter, 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 in order to distinguish them from the mobs of 
 the ministerial and diplomatic circles." 
 
 " Then there are the charming breakfasts of 
 the ambassadresses !" — added her sister. 
 
 " And our delightful drives in the Champs 
 Elysees, and rides in the Bois de Boulogne !" — 
 resumed the other. 
 
 " In short," cried the rough voice of the 
 Colonel, " you evidently intend to offer me not 
 only a reasonable excuse for your own expedition 
 to Paris, but strong inducements to visit it my- 
 self." 
 
 " The coxcomb!" — burst involuntarily from 
 the lips of Lord Greville and Fred Massing- 
 berd. 
 
 " Ay, do accompany us, — v/e have a fourth 
 place for you in the carriage !'* — added the 
 querulous voice of the old gentleman. And it 
 was no small relief to the listeners to find the 
 invitation declined. 
 
 " Impossible, my dear sir ! — I have too much 
 on my hands, to say nothing of the dangers in- 
 evitable to me from such a journey." 
 
 And though Massingberd could suppose the
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 51 
 
 probability of political perils for the Carlist 
 Colonel, Lord Greville instantly figured to him- 
 self the impertinent smile and glance towards 
 one or other of his fair cousins, intending to 
 assign to his speech a more gallant interpre- 
 tation. 
 
 " By Jove, we have no business to sit eaves' 
 dropping here !" — cried he, on observing that 
 Fred Massingberd was still sober enough to 
 take note of his changes of countenance. And 
 finding his friend resolved not to vacate his posi- 
 tion, the Earl was careful to cough so loudly as 
 to advertize his neighbours that they were over- 
 heard. A confused whispering assured him that 
 his hint was understood. The traveller^ kept 
 travellers' hours, and soon afterwards retired to 
 rest. 
 
 On the morrow, Massingberd slept late, thanks 
 to a severe headache consequent on his bottle of 
 Verzenay ; and on inquiry, it proved that the 
 party of the Marquis de Rostanges had departed 
 at sunrise. 
 
 " Never mind ! — we shall be sure to overtake 
 them !" — was the consolation of Massingberd to 
 D 2
 
 52 GREVILLE : OR, 
 
 his friend. But though pretending great eager- 
 ness to forward what he inferred to be Greville's 
 wishes on the subject, the Hstless dandy contrived 
 not to be ready for a start, till the heat of noon- 
 tide rendered the road insupportable. 
 
 " Never mind !" — was still his cool apostrophe. 
 " These people are doubtless wiser than our- 
 selves ; and are pausing at some inn till sunset, 
 to escape the coup de soleil with which poor 
 Giagchimo is at this moment in imminent 
 danger." 
 
 Greville who, partly by nature partly by 
 education, was an adept in that best of human 
 philosophy, to bear and forbear, refrained from 
 self- vindication; resigning himself to his reveries 
 without so much as noticing that the fumes of 
 Fred Massingberd's cigar were now superadded 
 to the suffocating dust of the road. He knew 
 that '' time and tide wear through the darkest 
 day," even when overclouded by the selfishness 
 of a smoking friend ; or rather, he knew nothing 
 just then, except that every hour and every 
 stage brought them nearer to Paris ; and that 
 the Paris which his companion regarded as a
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 53 
 
 wilderness, not exactly of monkeys, but of re- 
 staurants and theatres, was about to contain 
 the grey-eyed Sophie and dark-haired Eugenie, 
 whose graceful manners and elegant persons 
 had produced so powerful an effect upon his 
 imagination. 
 
 He fancied — a handsome young man of two 
 and twenty might be excused for indulging in 
 such fancies, more particularly since he had the 
 discretion to keep them to himself, — that the 
 attention of the fair travellers had been in some 
 slight degree conceded to himself. Both had 
 deigned to exchange a gentle salutation for 
 the profound bow with which he passed them 
 on the dirty staircase of the hotel at Dole. 
 It was true, they could no less; but Greville 
 discerned an indication of more than common 
 civility in the gesture. One thing, however, 
 sorely vexed him. It appeared that the Colonel 
 had eventually accepted the fourth place in the 
 brown Noah's ark, as proposed by the Marquis 
 de Rostanges ! — The Colonel (of whom he had 
 been unable to secure a glimpse the preceding 
 night, so as to determine the important question
 
 54 greville; or, 
 
 of his personal advantages,) the Colonel, with 
 all the easy assurance announced by his coarse 
 volubility, w^as consequently at that moment 
 seated side by side with the black or the grey- 
 eyed cousin, and opposite to the other ; while 
 his own social enjoyments were limited to 
 the gentle snore with which Massingberd now 
 superseded the cigar. — Poor Greville ! — 
 
 The heat of the day at length gave place to 
 one of those calm dewy evenings which, uriper- 
 ceived by the traveller, extend their tranquilliz- 
 ing influence over the landscape, till 
 
 All the air a solemn stillness holds. 
 
 The twilight of early May, particularly in the 
 south, is the most fragrant and refreshing hour 
 of the twenty-four ; and Greville, lost in his 
 own thoughts, and the enjoyment of a rising 
 breeze, began to rejoice that he had acceded to 
 Massingberd's proposal to travel through the 
 night. 
 
 The carriage had been tediously ascending a 
 long steep hill, to which the straight direction of 
 the road afforded no relief; when, as they reached
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 55 
 
 the brow, commanding, had there been daylight 
 to reveal its horizon, an extensive tract of 
 country, Lord Greville's ears were saluted by 
 the sudden and vehement ejaculations of Giac- 
 chimo, who had been preceding them on foot. 
 
 ** Santissimo Dio ! — what a terrible sight !" — 
 cried he ; and the two postilions, startled by his 
 exclamations, as they stopped for him to resume 
 his place in the rumble, soon added a chorus of 
 imprecations to his deep solo. 
 
 " What in the devil's name is the matter ?" 
 cried Massingberd, starting up, rubbing his eyes, 
 and instantly drowning, with unmeaning oaths, 
 the mild interrogations of Lord Greville. 
 
 " A fire — a terrible fire !" — cried Giacchimo, 
 aghast. 
 
 'lOne of our wheels fired ?" — exclaimed Mas- 
 singberd, scarcely yet awake, and incapable of 
 imagining a misfortune in which he had no 
 share. 
 
 '* No, no !" — replied Lord Greville, who, 
 having hastily alighted, was standing with Gi- 
 acchimo on the brow of the cote, '^ Below 
 yonder, — in the valley ! — By Jove, how the flames 
 ' are bursting forth !" —
 
 56 greville; or, 
 
 " Some hay-rick, — some hovel !" — cried Mas- 
 singberd. '' For God's sake, my dear fellow, 
 get in again, and let's be off. We have lost 
 ten minutes, while yonder fellows were sacrting 
 away their salvation !" — 
 
 But Lord Greville was too earnestly engaged 
 in conversation with the postilions even to re- 
 ply. As far as they could judge, they said, it 
 must be the village of Grangeneuve that was 
 in flames. They knew little of that part of the 
 country ; but one of them readily agreed to 
 take off the horses, and ride with Lord Gre- 
 ville to the spot, leaving his companion with 
 the carriage and its luggage, including Massing- 
 berd, who declared himself too much indisposed 
 to stir with the view of rendering assistance to 
 " a pack of peasants, who would probably not 
 so much as thank them for their pains." 
 
 In another moment, they were galloping 
 along a bye-road leading from the foot of the 
 hill ; guided towards the scene of danger rather 
 by the lurid reflection of the conflagration, than 
 by the local knowledge of the hero in jack-boots 
 who had undertaken their pilotage. Every now 
 and then, a fresh outburst of light served to
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 57 
 
 hasten their speed, by an announcement of the 
 progress of the devouring element ; but, as 
 Gros Pierre was careful to announce as intelli- 
 gibly as the rough gallop of his beast would 
 allow, that Grangeneuve was a detached hamlet 
 in the midst of coppices, and that, as the fire 
 had occurred after the hour of the villagers re- 
 tiring to rest, the inhabitants were probably 
 already burnt in their beds, there was little to 
 encourage their enterprise. 
 
 On reaching Grangeneuve, however, they had 
 the mortification to find the little knot of cabins 
 of which it was composed as fast and dark as if 
 nothing extraordinary were occurring ! — Not a 
 soul was stirring ; even the dogs scarcely roused 
 themselves to utter a feeble bark as the horses of 
 Lord Greville and his noisy companion clattered 
 along the causeway. 
 
 " Nom de Dieu ! this is worse and worse ! — It 
 must be the chateau ! — yet I could have sworn 
 that the chateau lay a league further in the 
 valley," — cried Gros Pierre. 
 
 " Are we, at least, in the right road ?" — ex- 
 claimed Lord Greville, on perceiving that the 
 d3
 
 58 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 fierce reflection of the fire upon the sky rather 
 increased than diminished. 
 
 *' Quite right ! — keep to the left after passing 
 the brook, and we shall be on the spot in fifteen 
 minutes/' — cried the postilion. ^' Sacristie / to 
 think that I should never have recollected the 
 chateau I — On, on ! mon bon M^sieur ! — there 
 may be life and death in the matter !" — 
 
 "At least, let us rouse the inmates of the village 
 and obtain their assistance for the sufferers," — 
 cried Lord Greville. And this prudent suggestion 
 having been attended to, and attended with all 
 the tedious explanations consequent upon rousing 
 up at dead at night sleepers oppressed by the 
 labours of the day, Lord Greville hastened on- 
 wards in the direction pointed out. He soon 
 needed no other guide than the reddening 
 flames to suggest his way. 
 
 Within half-an-hour of quitting the high-road, 
 Lord Greville was foremost in a group of terri- 
 fied and disheartened servants, who vvere awk- 
 wardly attempting to fix a crazy ladder, procured 
 with difficulty from a neighbouring grange, to 
 the upper story of a large, rambling country
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 59 
 
 mansion, scarcely deserving the name of chateau, 
 so closely was it incorporated with a farm- 
 house, already more than half destroyed by the 
 fire which had originated under its roof, and 
 which threatened destruction to the whole 
 edifice. 
 
 " I tell you 'tis useless \" — cried one of the 
 assistants to the new comers, " the flooring must 
 have fallen in by this time. — If there had been 
 any hope of saving the poor old gentleman, do 
 you think my master the Colonel would not 
 have been the first to propose attempting the 
 window ?" — 
 
 " Colonel d'Aramon is desperately hurt him- 
 self," added another; " his clothes were scorched 
 nearly off his back as he rushed a second time 
 through the flames with one of the ladies in his 
 arms." 
 
 But the startling intelligence thus conveyed 
 was lost upon Lord Greville. Having reached 
 the scene of action fresh and excited, while the 
 rest of the assistants were overpowered, and in 
 some instances injured, by previous exertion, he 
 did not hesitate to rush up the ladder, now
 
 60 greville; or, 
 
 firmly planted by the aid of Gros Pierre and 
 the stragglers reaching the spot from Grange- 
 neuve, towards the window pointed out by the 
 crowd as affording the only chance of escape for 
 some individual sleeping within. To crash the 
 window-frame, fortunately unprotected by shut- 
 ters, and burst into the room, was the work of a 
 moment ; and though the shouts accompanying 
 the heroic ascent of the young stranger were a 
 moment suspended by anxiety as he disappeared 
 from their eyes, it was some relief to the panic 
 of the moment that no flames burst forth from 
 the broken window to announce that the ex- 
 pectations of the spectators were realized, and 
 that the fire was raging in the upper story. 
 
 Still, moments elapsed, even minutes, and 
 those prolonged by the intense anxiety of the 
 still increasing throng ; — but the stranger who 
 had so unaccountably dropped from the clouds 
 to hazard his life for the sake of persons un- 
 known, re-appeared not ! — 
 
 " He is lost ! — he is suffocated by the smoke V 
 — cried Gros Pierre and his companions. — 
 '- God have mercy upon his soul !" —
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 61 
 
 " n^io is lost, — icho is suffocated?" — exclaimed 
 the authoritative voice of a gentleman, who now 
 rushed breathless upon the terrace whereon the 
 ladder had been fixed. 
 
 *' A stranger, — a brave young foreign tra- 
 veller, who hurried hither from the hi^h-road 
 on discovering the fire," — replied one of the 
 servants. 
 
 '« Bah ! — you are dreaming !" — cried the 
 breathless gentleman, almost beside himself 
 with agitation and alarm. 
 
 '' It is not five minutes since he mounted the 
 ladder and entered the old Marquis's bed- 
 room !" — interposed a stable-boy, " as Gros 
 Pierre here, who brought the gentleman and 
 other succours with him from Grangeneuve, can 
 attest." 
 
 " Ay ! and I heartily wish we had all tarried 
 behind," — growled the postilion ; " for I have 
 been the means of making an untimely end of 
 as noble a gentleman as ever backed a horse ; 
 and small thanks to him, it seems, for his gene- 
 rous spirit ! But by the Blessed Lady and all 
 her Saints he shan't die like a dog, while we
 
 62 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 Stand wondering at his folly ! — If help may yet 
 avail—" 
 
 And the postilion began disencumbering 
 himself of his jack-boots, with the intention of 
 ascending the ladder in his turn and penetrat- 
 ing into the interior of the fatal apartment; 
 when, with an angry oath, the Colonel com- 
 manded him to desist. 
 
 " If he ever entered the room, as you assert, 
 he left it safely by the door, and descended the 
 stone staircase, which the fire has not yet 
 reached, and down which I conducted the Mar- 
 quis de Rostanges ten minutes ago !" — cried he. 
 '' All the fellow has done is the mischief of let- 
 ting in a current of air through yonder broken 
 windows. — But why do we stand talking here, 
 while the flames are making their cursed way to 
 the farm? — Follow me, friends! By tearing 
 down an outhouse or two, we may still save 
 the granaries of poor Caudebec !" 
 
 Thus satisfied of the safety of the intrepid 
 stranger, the villagers, shouting and excited, 
 followed the agitated proprietor of the blazing 
 pile towards the farm-yard, which presented a
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 63 
 
 painful scene of danger and desolation. With 
 considerable risk and peril, the farmer and his 
 men were attempting to drag the terrified horses 
 from their stables. Poultry fluttering and 
 screaming with terror, — cattle, dogs, and all 
 sorts of domestic animals, startled and suffering, 
 yet spell-bound, as it were, to the spot, — added 
 to the confusion of the assistants. 
 
 It was only Gros Pierre who silently dis- 
 obeyed the summons of the Colonel. He was 
 not satisfied with the summary manner in which 
 the safety of his young patron had been taken 
 for granted ; and loitered behind, anxiously 
 surveying the ladder and the broken windows, 
 murmuring imprecations between his teeth 
 against the selfishness of all proprietors of burn- 
 ing houses, who are content to see human 
 beings roasted like ducks or chickens, for the 
 chance of saving a measure of corn or an old 
 bedstead. 
 
 Ere he had half vented his indignation, a 
 smart blow upon the shoulder induced him to 
 hazard a yet rounder oath ; which changed to a 
 cry of joy when he beheld the handsome young
 
 64 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 traveller, safe and sound, though somewhat 
 blackened and disfigured by his transit through 
 the chateau. 
 
 " Praise be to God ! — I thought the Colonel 
 was making a fool of me !" — cried Gros Pierre, 
 seizing Greville heartily by the hand, and 
 giving it a cordial shake. '« You are one of the 
 right stuff, whoever you are, and I knew as 
 much the moment I saw you in your saddle. 
 You ride like a man, — and you behave like a 
 man, which is more than one can say of all 
 gentlemen, with the Colonel yonder at the head 
 of 'em. — To think that I should have lent a 
 hand to sending you on a fool's errand up this 
 cursed crazy old ladder, where you hazarded 
 breaking your neck, without the possibility of 
 being of use to any mortal breathing !" — 
 
 "The people seem bewildered by so much 
 confusion, — so much danger," — replied Greville. 
 " The Marquis de Rostanges was in safety, I 
 find, before I entered his room. — No matter ! 
 We are none of us the worse for the attempt; 
 and every inhabitant of the farm and chateau 
 is happily forthcoming."
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 65 
 
 " Ay, ay ! — no further danger except for the 
 granaries !" — cried Gros Pierrre. " If you're 
 not tired of serving those who have not even the 
 grace to thank you, mon hon M'sieur, come round 
 with me into the basse cour, and — " 
 
 ** Can you direct me to find the chapel?" — 
 inquired Greville in his turn. 
 
 " The chapel !" — reiterated Gros Pierre. 
 " Is there a chapel attached to the Chateau de 
 Grangeneuve ?" — 
 
 And on finding how little he had to hope of 
 information from the postilion, Lord Greville, 
 leaving the granaries and the pigeon-house to 
 their fate, pushed his way through a quincunx 
 of sycamores from which he had seen the 
 Colonel emerge previous to their hurried en- 
 counter a few minutes before ; and was not long 
 in finding his way to a barn -like edifice sur- 
 mounted by a cross standing at a few hundred 
 yards from the extremity of the terrace, the 
 door of which was ajar. 
 
 A sound of lamentation greeted him in the 
 porch ; kneeling on the threshold of which were 
 two or three peasant-girls attached to the service
 
 66 GREVILLE ', OR, 
 
 of the chateau, whose loud prayers and louder 
 outcries rendered almost inaudible the reiterated 
 inquiries of the young Earl after the Marquis 
 de Rostanges and his family. The flames were 
 now so far abated, that the uncertain light glim- 
 mering through the narrow windows of the 
 chapel rendered it difficult to ascertain the 
 exact number or nature of its inmates ; nor was 
 it till after repeated demands, that he could ob- 
 tain the attention of the terrified damsels nearest 
 the door so far as to learn that " ces dames^^ 
 were in prayer at the foot of the altar. 
 
 Anxiously but timidly penetrating into the 
 interior of the little chapel, Lord Greville had 
 the satisfaction to perceive the old gentleman 
 leaning on the shoulder of one of his lovely 
 companions, while the other knelt weeping by 
 their side. 
 
 Scarcely half-a-dozen words passed between 
 the parties; — but of a nature to satisfy Lord 
 Greville's mind that they were safe, — unhurt ; — 
 that they were aware of the risk he had under- 
 gone for their sake ; — and that he was accepted 
 as a friend for life ! —
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 67 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Tour a tour, insouciante comme un enfant et pensive 
 comme une femme, etourdie le matin et le soir melanco- 
 lique, petulante jusqu'a la folie ou serieuse jusqu'a la 
 gravite, docile a la tempete mais refletant I'instant aprfes 
 la serenite du ciel, elle offrait un de ces types ondoyans et 
 complexes, devant lesquels les bourgeois s'arretent avec 
 defiance, et les artistes avec amour. 
 
 Bernard. 
 
 '« My dear fellow, what would you have? — I 
 remained there starving on the crown of the 
 causeway till nearly two o'clock in the morn- 
 ing !" — cried Fred Massingberd, in answer to the 
 remonstrance of Greville. ** We then saw that 
 the flames had subsided, and that all danger 
 was past. The postilion was beginning to 
 grumble, (though Giacchimo promised him a
 
 68 greville; or, 
 
 handsome pourhoire,) And the end of it was, 
 that I recollected you would be sure to make 
 your way here to the post station, instead of 
 expecting to find us star-gazing on the road till 
 you saw fit to return from your mad expedition. 
 So we stopped the first pair of return-horses, — 
 et me voild.'^ — 
 
 '^ I certainly did not expect to find you 
 quietly in bed, while uncertain whether we were 
 dead or alive !" — cried Greville. " And if I 
 hoped to find the carriage where I left it, 'twas 
 because it is wanted for the immediate convey- 
 ance hither of Madame de Rostanges and her 
 sister." 
 
 " Madame de ivhom ?"> — 
 
 " Madame la Marquise de Rostanges, her 
 husband, and sister, — the inmates of the chateau 
 which was all but consumed last night," — replied 
 the Earl. 
 
 " A Marquise ? — a chateau ? — And so you 
 have actually been making a heros de roman of 
 yourself while I was smoking my cigar un- 
 suspectingly by the road-side !" — cried Massing- 
 berd, at length startled from his pillow. " 'Pon
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 69 
 
 my soul, Grev., this was stealing a march upon 
 me with a vengeance !" 
 
 o 
 
 " You did not choose to bear me company — " 
 
 " You did not choose to tell me the real 
 object of your enterprise !" — 
 
 " I suppose it will be useless to say or swear, 
 to a pagan like yourself, that when I left you I 
 had not the remotest suspicion whither, or to 
 whose relief, I was hastening. One of those 
 strange freaks of fate which sometimes occur 
 out of the pages of a romance, enabled me to be 
 of service to persons in whom I feel, I admit, 
 an unaccountable interest." 
 
 " As if you had not bribed the mayor of the 
 village, or some other notable of the place, to 
 play Guy Fawkes with the old chateau, — that 
 you might do a little bit of romantic by extin- 
 guishing the flames with the gardener's watering 
 pot !" — cried Massingberd, shuffling on his dress- 
 ing-gown, as he rose hastily from bed. 
 
 " I have no time to brag of my exploits just 
 now," cried Greville, good-humouredly. " I 
 disturbed you only to say that the carriage is 
 at the door to proceed to Grangeneuve, for the
 
 70 greville; or, 
 
 use of the Marquis de Rostanges's family ; the 
 brown Noah's-ark having been too much in- 
 jured by the fire to be of further use." 
 
 " And what the deuce, then, is to become of 
 them and us f — cried Massingberd, with an air 
 of consternation. 
 
 '* As soon as they have recovered their fatigue 
 and alarm, they will resume their journey ?" 
 " To Paris ? — in our carriage ?" — 
 " To Paris, — in my carriage. We can easily 
 find places in the first diligence," replied the 
 Earl. 
 
 '* Easily enough — but not easy places." — 
 " Do you think such accommodation better 
 suited, then, to Madame de Rostanges and her 
 sister ?" — 
 
 '* What are Madame de Rostanges and her 
 sister to me"^ — I never beheld them till four 
 days ago, and don't care if I never see them 
 again ! — The diligence ! — pah ! — What a nui- 
 sance women are, from the moment they set 
 their feet out of their own houses !" — muttered 
 the dandy. 
 
 *' I can't stay to fight the battles of the sex
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 71 
 
 just now," cried Greville ; *« but I have no 
 doubt Madame de Rostanges and the dark-eyed 
 Eugenie will add their thanks to mine, if you 
 bestir yourself to have an excellent breakfast 
 ready for us on our arrival." 
 
 And he was off before Massingberd had time 
 to acquiesce or remonstrate. 
 
 The morrow of a midnight fire necessarily 
 presents a scene of desolation ; whether its ra- 
 vages have swept through the palace or the 
 cottage, — whether the interests of the arts or 
 the sober realities of humble life are sacrificed 
 by the catastrophe. At Grangeneuve, though 
 the lamentations of every village within many 
 leagues round were in request to bewail the 
 calamity of Farmer Caudebec and the brave 
 Colonel d'Aramon, there was less cause for 
 despair than on most similar occasions. No loss 
 of life or limb, — not so much as a horse or cow 
 sacrificed ; — and the property so far insured as 
 to preserve the poor Caudebec from the ruin 
 usually consequent for the poor on such a 
 misfortune. 
 
 Still, nothing could exceed the wretchedness
 
 72 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 of the houseless family, or the desolation of the 
 spot. The terrace of the chateau, with its 
 pretty adjoining flower-gardens, was strewed with 
 wrecks of the farmer's humble household furni- 
 ture, which had been removed thither as to a 
 place of security. Even the fagade of the 
 chateau, with its broken windows, and the 
 eastern wing connecting it with the farm, 
 scorched and defaced by the flames, looked 
 sufficiently disconsolate, Lord Greville could 
 scarcely refrain from a smile at the pompous 
 care with which Colonel d'Aramon exclu- 
 sively pointed out, as they visited the spot 
 together, the dreadful havoc his property had 
 undergone. 
 
 *' But yesterday, Sir, the Chateau de Grange- 
 neuve was one of the prettiest things in the 
 whole Canton,'' said he. " You see it in miser- 
 able disorder ; — the vases overthrown from their 
 pedestals, — the parterres trampled down, — and 
 my poor terrace disgraced by all this trumpery ! — 
 Yet, I again assure you. Sir, that yesterday, when 
 my charming cousins drove into the court-yard. 
 Mademoiselle de Nangis admitted she had seen
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 73 
 
 nothing more enchanting in her travels than the 
 site of the Chateau de Grangeneuve !" 
 
 Lord Greville replied only by a polite bow ; 
 secretly of opinion that either Mademoiselle de 
 Nangis's better judgment was blinded by family 
 prejudices, or that her understanding must be 
 strangely at variance with her intellectual cast of 
 countenance. 
 
 '^ I have vainly attempted, Sir, to persuade 
 the Marquis to defer his departure till to-mor- 
 row," resumed the Colonel. " The chateau, 
 Heaven be thanked, has escaped without mate- 
 rial injury ; — and I could still establish them so 
 comfortably that it would be far wiser not to 
 attempt the journey till recovered from the 
 fatigues of last night. However, they will not 
 be persuaded ; — they are too scrupulous. They 
 are apprehensive, Sir, of adding to my anxieties 
 at such a crisis; — and I am reluctantly com- 
 pelled to submit to their decree." 
 
 To Greville's great relief. Colonel d'Ara- 
 mon now escorted him into a saloon, whose 
 uncarpeted brick-floor and worm-eaten furni- 
 ture of faded tapestry, appeared to English 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 greville; or, 
 
 eyes very little superior to the liousehold goods 
 of the poor farmer which encumbered the ter- 
 race. The Colonel, however, evidently thought 
 otherwise — 
 
 Stately stepped he east the ha' 
 And stately stepped he west, 
 
 while expressing his regrets that untoward cir- 
 cumstances should prevent his welcoming an 
 English visitor with becoming honours ; — point- 
 ing out to the stranger with a pompous wave 
 of the hand the fine prospect visible from the 
 uncurtained windows, as he proceeded to mar- 
 shal him into a small chamber occupying one 
 of the turrets flanking the chateau, in which, 
 in anxious expectation of his arrival, sat Ma- 
 dame de Rostanges, her husband, and sister. 
 They made no secret of their joy on seeing 
 him again. 
 
 '' I was afraid you might be tempted to desert 
 us !" — cried Mademoiselle de Nangis ; a deep 
 blush succeeding to the paleness and languor 
 produced by the terrors of the preceding night; 
 while Madame de Rostanges, acknowledging
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 75 
 
 Lord Greville's salutations by a gentle smile, 
 turned towards the Marquis with a whispered 
 ejaculation of — '' I told you so ! — There was 
 nothing to fear ! — I was certain he would keep 
 his promise !" — 
 
 " My carriage awaits your orders in the 
 court-yard," said he, abruptly addressing Mon- 
 sieur de Rostanges ; " accompanied by a cab- 
 riolet de poste for the use of your servants. 
 Everything is prepared for your reception at 
 the inn. Surely you cannot too speedily enable 
 these ladies to enjoy the rest and refreshment of 
 which they stand so much in need ?" — 
 
 Still bewildered by the dreadful ev^nt which 
 had placed him in fear, if not in peril of his 
 life, Monsieur de Rostanges, a gentlemanly 
 valetudinarian, about sixty years of age, was 
 evidently puzzled between the civilities due to 
 the kinsman to whom their visit had proved so 
 signal a misfortune; and those owing to the dis- 
 tinguished young foreigner who, as the lady's- 
 maid had been just declaring to Mademoiselle 
 de Nangis, '' se mettait en quatre pour leur rendre 
 service,^' He became confused in his apologies 
 e2
 
 76 GREVILLE ; 01{, 
 
 to the Colonel, for having been the means 
 of burning down his house, (the fermiere 
 having dinned into the ears of the family that 
 the fire arose from the over-heating of her 
 ovens in baking pains de gruau for the guests ;) 
 and to the Milor, for being the means of turn- 
 ing him out of his carriage, (Giacchimo, who 
 was reluctantly in attendance, having pointed 
 out that his lordship was on horseback, to 
 avdid being an incumbrance to the party.) 
 Nor was it till Eugenie de Nangis, who some- 
 times assumed the privileges of girlhood with 
 her grave brother-in-law, took the liberty of re- 
 minding him that they were increasing the em- 
 barrassment of all parties by so much ceremony, 
 that he could be prevailed upon to make his 
 final bow. 
 
 Nothino^ could be more amusinor than the 
 air of magnanimity with which Monsieur de 
 Rostanges lifted h's hat in acknowledgment 
 of the cheers raised by the poor Caudebecs and 
 their people, as the handsome English travelling 
 carriage was jolted over the wretched pavement 
 out of the court-yard. Little did he suspect
 
 A SEASON IX PARIS. 77 
 
 that the compliment was an effort of grati- 
 tude towards Greville, whose liberalities had 
 been promptly and nobly dispensed to the 
 sufferers from the fire. The Marquis had 
 done nothing; they were not ''his people." 
 It was no affair of his. He had fulfilled his 
 duty by dropping an offering into the poor's 
 box of the chapel ; — not so much as an aid to 
 the needy of this world, as to testify his grati- 
 tude to Heaven for his own preservation from 
 destruction. 
 
 If the prolixity of Monsieur de Rostanges 
 proved an annoyance to poor Colonel d'Ara- 
 mon, who was beginning to find that the 
 honour of affording a night's hospitality to two 
 pretty cousins might be dearly purchased, to 
 Fred Massingberd the evil was of a still more 
 crying nature ; — for the time passed on, and no 
 travellers appeared. The excellent breakfast 
 that was spoiling, — the over-boiled coffee, — the 
 over-stewed matelotte, — the forgotten cutlets, — 
 the cold brioche! — It was too provoking that 
 the quiet, reserved Greville, hitherto so posi- 
 tive in his views of human enjoyment, should
 
 78 , GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 have chosen the moment of their journey 
 to develope his capabiUties as a hero of ro- 
 mance ! — 
 
 '* From the moment I set eyes on that cursed 
 old brown Noah's ark, I foresaw mischief!" 
 muttered Frederick, as he stood watching from 
 the window of the Golden Lion the coming 
 of Greville's carriage along the dusty high-road ; 
 as eagerly as in the month of September, in 
 London, he would have watched from Crock- 
 ford's window the transit of the only stray car- 
 riage extant in the metropolis. " After having 
 got rid of all those bores of women at Rome, to 
 run one's head into such a viper's nest as this ! 
 A Frenchwoman out of Paris is the devil ; and 
 two of them, (and a soubrette, neither young nor 
 pretty, for that portion of the Noah's ark fell 
 under my especial cognizance,) to drive one out 
 of one's wits, and into the Messageries Roy ales ! 
 — By Jove, Greville is old enough to know 
 better ! — His mother is right — he is not fit to 
 be trusted out of her sight. — How could I be 
 such an ass as to let him gallop off on that 
 fool's errand last night. — What the deuce had
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 79 
 
 an English peer to do at a village fire in 
 Burgundy? — Que diahle allait-il faire dans 
 cette galere /" — 
 
 Poor Frederick had only one resource for his 
 ill-humour, — the English dandy's universal 
 stronghold of defence : — he v^^ould be Jine ! 
 When these troublesome foreigners arrived, 
 they should obtain no advantage over Mm. He 
 would make it so apparent how greatly he and 
 his travelling companion were inconvenienced 
 on their account, that they must be compelled 
 to decline the accommodation offered. 
 
 Nevertheless, when the party eventually made 
 its appearance, even the cool, self-possessed Fred 
 Massingberd found it impossible to persevere 
 in his intentions. Not only the overstrained 
 obsequiousness of the host of the Golden Lion, 
 overjoyed at having such unlooked-for victims to 
 prey upon as a party of travellers, including a 
 cheatable English Milor and a cheating Italian 
 courier, but the high-bred courtesy of the 
 Marquis, rendered any attempt at ungracious- 
 ness impossible. Neither the gentle smiles of 
 Madame de Rostanges, nor the piquant glances
 
 80 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 of her sister, would have disarmed his dandyism. 
 But the graceful bow of the gentleman of the 
 old school overpowered the insolence even of St. 
 James's Street. 
 
 Nor were his attempts at exquisitism less 
 completely frustrated. Having resolved, since 
 he must not mark his contempt of the intruders, 
 to shew his consciousness of superiority by 
 sneering at the miserable accommodations of the 
 Golden Lion, and turning to a jest the heroism 
 of Greville and the bloodless perils of the pre- 
 ceding night, his wit fell pointless; for the fair 
 Parisians were deeply and piously grateful for 
 their escape from dangers which they still shud- 
 deringly declared to have been imminent ; and 
 their earnest declarations of obligation to their 
 new friend were uttered in a tone that admitted 
 of no flippant rejoinder. 
 
 " Poor Grev. ! — They have found him out ! — 
 He is a marked man ! — Giacchimo has been 
 chattering, and it is all over with Greville 
 Abbey !" — was Massingberd's secret monologue. 
 '' Already they perceive how soft he is, and 
 have booked him for a victim. Which wins the
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. SI 
 
 day, — black eyes or blue ? — the married beauty 
 or the single ? — By Jove, I shall be curious to see 
 how matters turn out !" 
 
 But, like other individuals overripened by 
 the precocitatiousness of the age, Fred Massing- 
 berd was too shrewd by half. So far from 
 having found out Lord Greville, that is, found 
 him out as a man enjoying high advantages of 
 birth and fortune, Madame de Rostanges having 
 encountered in her Italian tour certain young 
 English lordlings of a very different tone of 
 conduct and character, had taken it into her 
 head that Greville was the travelling-companion 
 or poor relation of the dandified Fred; while 
 as to Eugenie, she was so overpowered by the 
 attaques de nerfs she had experienced the pre- 
 ceding night, that all the houses of peers of all 
 Europe might have been present, without excit- 
 ing much attention. She had scarcely found time 
 even to notice with disgust the hard stare with 
 which she was honoured by the young gentle- 
 man who discussed so learnedly the seasoning 
 of cutlets and saucing of matelottes, before she 
 begged permission to retire with her sister for 
 e3
 
 82 GREVILLE ; OK, 
 
 the repose and quiet of which they stood so 
 much in need. 
 
 When, late in the day, Madame la Mar- 
 quise and the lovely Eugenie emerged from 
 their chamber, refreshed in spirit, to tender to 
 their English friends the acknowledgments in 
 which they felt themselves to have been pre- 
 viously deficient, Lord Greville and Massing- 
 berd were gone ; and the travelling carriage of 
 the Earl was at the door, packed and prepared 
 for the continuance of their journey. 
 
 " Ces Messieurs would not hear of your being 
 disturbed to receive their adieux," said the 
 Marquis, in reply to Eugenie's eager interroga- 
 tions. " They had an opportunity of engag- 
 ing the coupe when the diligence stopped to 
 change horses, which was not to be neglected. 
 D'Aramon, who was here at the time, (having 
 ridden over an hour ago to see that we were 
 properly attended to, and obtain the attendance 
 of the Sous Prefet to preside over the proces 
 verbal of the fire,) strongly advised them not to 
 lose so eligible an opportunity." 
 
 " How very provoking ! — how very officious !"
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 83 
 
 burst at the same moment from the lips of both 
 sisters. 
 
 " We had really no opportunity to express 
 our sense of his disinterested kindness !" added 
 Madame de Rostanges. "I am assured by 
 Adele, who witnessed the scene, that at the mo- 
 ment this young man ascended to the apartment 
 in which you were supposed to lie in imminent 
 danger, not another person could be found to 
 hazard the attempt." 
 
 " D'Aramon assures me, however, that the en- 
 terprise was quite gratuitous," replied the Mar- 
 quis, somewhat drily. 
 
 '' As it proved," hastily interrupted Eugenie 
 de Nangis. ^^ But Colonel d'Aramon was not 
 on the spot, — Colonel d'Aramon saw nothing 
 of the matter ! — He was too much occupied with 
 the preservation of his goods and chattels to 
 trouble himself unnecessarily with — '* 
 
 " Be just, amid all your enthusiasm, my dear 
 Eugenie," interrupted Monsieur de Rostanges, 
 in his turn. " D'Aramon, in spite of his rough- 
 ness, the best fellow breathing, had seen us all 
 in safety before he gave a moment's thought to 
 the care of his property.''
 
 84 greville; or, 
 
 " He was indeed most kind, most considerate ; 
 and I shall never cease to regret the consequence 
 of our unlucky acceptance of his hospitality," 
 interposed Madame de Rostanges. " But I 
 should be sorry to find him underrate the ser- 
 vices of our English friend." 
 
 " No doubt Colonel d'Aramon took occasion 
 to insinuate to Monsieur de Grevile, as well 
 as to yourself, that his attempt at your rescue 
 from the flames last night was a mere act 
 of Quixotism !" — cried Eugenie, impatiently. 
 " Really, ce clier cousin has vegetated in his re- 
 treat yonder at Grangeneuve till he seems to 
 have lost all sense of the claims of society, or of 
 common politeness." 
 
 ** He has not lost his sense of the claims 
 of kindred, as his ill-fated hospitality to us 
 avouches," remonstrated the Marquis. " How- 
 ever, I will waste no further time in fighting his 
 battles. All that remains for us is to make the 
 best of our way to Paris ; where occasions will 
 not be wanting to testify to the English gende- 
 men thrown so opportunely in our w^ay at this 
 unlucky juncture, the sense we entertain of their 
 courtesy."
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 85 
 
 The word " courtesy" grated on the ears of 
 Madame de Rostanges and her sister. Their 
 feehngs were still warm, their imaginations still 
 exaltedj by the enthusiasm natural to their sex 
 on such occasions as the incident which had 
 brought about their acquaintance with Lord 
 Greville. Had he been a person of ordinary 
 attractions, — had he been even ugly, old, repel- 
 lent, — they must have been touched by his gene- 
 rous exertions in their behalf. But there was 
 every excuse for the exaggeration of their feel- 
 ings in the graceful deportment, indicative of 
 refinement and high station, for which Greville 
 was remarkable. They were vexed that he 
 should have quitted them without adieu ; vexed 
 that he should have so readily resigned their 
 society for that of the fastidious dandy, to whom 
 they already assigned his real value in compari- 
 son with that of his less ostentatious companion. 
 
 " He has shaken us oft somewhat cavalierly," 
 was Sophie's whispered observation to her sister, 
 as they preceded Monsieur de Rostanges into 
 the carriage which now so commodiously re- 
 placed the brown Noah's ark. " NHmporte 1 —
 
 86 greville; or, 
 
 in three more days, we shall be at home. It 
 will then depend upon ourselves to testify our 
 gratitude. — It will then depend upon ourselves to 
 ascertain whether we have formed an extravagant 
 estimate of the merits of our new friend."
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 87 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Strip a butterfly of its painted wings, and it becomes a 
 
 grub. 
 
 Burton. 
 
 " * Allegut, endegutV — as my blackguard used 
 to say at Vienna when he shaved me without in- 
 flicting disfigurement on my noble chin I" — cried 
 Fred Massingberd, extending himself at full 
 length on one of the satin sofas of a handsome 
 apartment in the Hotel des Princes, two days 
 after the great event. — '' We are not so ill off 
 here as I anticipated ; and after all, one could 
 not hope to be received at the Bristol or the 
 Rhin, jolting to the door as we did in a filthy 
 fiacre, with evident signs of having beastlified all
 
 88 greville; or, 
 
 night in oneof LafRtte and Caillard's abominable 
 receptacles for wayfaring men.'* 
 
 " I have no doubt they would have given us 
 their best rooms, had they chanced to be unoc- 
 cupied; and the more readily at the Hotel de 
 Bristol, since my mother and the Cobhams 
 have written to retain apartments," replied 
 Lord Greville. 
 
 Massingberd, on receiving this intelligence, 
 looked as if perfectly reconciled to the destiny 
 which had settled them at the Hotel des Princes ! 
 
 " I have already despatched Giacchimo to 
 order our dinner at Very's, and to secure 
 stalls at the opera," said he, yawning. 
 
 " They spoke of having an excellent table- 
 d'hote in the house," said Lord Greville, looking 
 at his watch. 
 
 " The best in Paris, which ought to be the 
 best in the world," answered his friend. — " But 
 the best table-d'hote in the world must still be 
 the nastiest thing in nature, — a rechauffee of 
 plats and people not acceptable elsewhere. . No, 
 no, Grev., — no table-d'hotes an' thou lovest me ! 
 To-morrow, I will get your name down at the
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 89 
 
 Union and Jockey Clubs. I should have dined 
 at the Union to -day? had you been a member." 
 
 '' Let me be no restraint upon you ; — I shall 
 be quite satisfied with the nearest cafe," said 
 Greville, with an air of unconcern. 
 
 " Don't talk so like a Hottentot ! — Have you 
 no palate, or, at all events, no sense of decency ? 
 — I see I must take care of your health and 
 morals, or I shall find you eating dirt (not 
 Orientally speaking) at one of the horrible re- 
 staurants a vingt-cinq sous, where the public is 
 poisoned in cold blood, with extenuating cir- 
 cumstances. But here comes Giacchimo with 
 the bulletin of our pleasures for the evening." 
 
 Great was the disappointment of Massingberd 
 on learning that the Italian Opera had been 
 closed for several weeks; the company having 
 performed its annual migration to London. At 
 the French Opera, not a box or stall was to be 
 had !— 
 
 " There will be a good box on the second 
 tier the week after next; and next week, perhaps, 
 des stalles d^orchestre^"* was all the consolation 
 afforded by the emissary who accompanied the 
 courier; and Fred, who in London carried
 
 90 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 himself at the Opera as if a part-proprietor 
 of the establishment, and who fancied it im- 
 possible for Cerito or Taglioni to dance im* 
 encouraged by his plaudits, was amazed to find 
 that even the talisman of ready gold would do 
 no more than enable him to cross the threshold 
 of the Academic Royale, with the chance of 
 finding a place in some upper box fifty feet 
 above the level of the stage. 
 
 ^''It is the run of Meyerbeer's new opera," 
 observed the agent. *' On such occasions, the 
 house is bespoken for ten or twenty representa- 
 tions; for the first few nights, the bureau de 
 location was not even opened." 
 
 *« This would scarcely be believed in apathetic 
 London," said Greville, smiling at the irritation 
 of his companion, '' However, do not let us 
 break our hearts about it, with so many other 
 means of enjoyment within our reach." 
 
 '' Pray propose that we should go and amuse 
 ourselves at the nearest spectacle^ as you did that 
 we should feed ourselves at the nearest restau- 
 rant I ^^ — cried Fred, with an air of profound 
 disgust. 
 
 " On the contrary," replied Greville, good-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 91 
 
 humouredly, " as you declare yourself to be 
 shaken to pieces by the jolting of the infernal 
 machine miscalled a diligence, I strongly re- 
 commend that you spend the evening on the 
 sofa, or at your club, while I try to make out 
 the whereabout of the Hotel de Rostanges." 
 
 '* Hotel de nonsense !" — exclaimed Massing- 
 berd, thoroughly out of sorts. " You will find 
 the Marquis and his wife quietly lodged in some 
 troisieme — some third floor in the neighbourhood 
 of the Rue de Bac ; — that is, if they ever make it 
 convenient to arrive and allow you the use of 
 your own carriage." 
 
 " By your own account, they could not be in 
 Paris before Wednesday, Nous sommes a Lundi, 
 It is only idle curiosity that leads me in search 
 of their habitation," muttered Greville. 
 
 *' Idle curiosity, and the attraction of a pair 
 of the bluest eyes that ever vied with a Neapo- 
 litan sky !** cried Massingberd. 
 
 And though pretending to turn a deaf ear to 
 the insinuation, it was probably because appre- 
 hensive of having the jest carried further than 
 he desired, that Greville took up his hat, an-
 
 92 greville; or, 
 
 nouncing his intention of lounging upon the 
 Boulevarts till it was time to repair to Very's to 
 dinner. 
 
 A lounge on foot upon the Boulevarts was a 
 thing quite out of Massingberd's way at any 
 time. — But to appear there, or in any other 
 public place, in the present disorganized state 
 of his toilet, was not to be thought of. Not a 
 movement, not a measure of Fred Massingberd's 
 was .attempted without reference to the eiFect it 
 was likely to produce. Though a complete 
 egotist, he did nothing with an exclusive view to 
 his exclusive enjoyment ; or, rather, he placed 
 his exclusive enjoyment in figuring to advan- 
 tage in the eyes of the world. He was, in fact, 
 one of those useless excrescences of the present 
 highly artificial state of society, which may be 
 compared with the newly-acquired race of orchi- 
 daceous plants ; — curious weeds, the growth of a 
 noxious climate, and requiring the waste of a 
 fortune to maintain the factitious state of atmo- 
 sphere essential to their existence. 
 
 '' How gay — how inspiriting — how different 
 from the pompous dulness of England !" — was
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 93 
 
 Lord Greville's exclamation, as, sallying forth 
 from the Rue de Richelieu, he turned the angle 
 of the Boulevart des Italiens ; and who ever pur- 
 sued his way along that varying and brilliant 
 causeway, without indulging in a similar excla- 
 mation ? — The stream of well-dressed people 
 pressing towards the west end of the town, the 
 cheerful countenances, the handsome equipages, 
 the glittering cafes, the splendid shops, and, 
 above all, the general air of life, movement, 
 vivacity, and prosperity, the gaite de coeur of 
 the lower classes, and the entrainement of the 
 higher, conspire to adorn a scene " able to 
 cure all sadness but despair!" — 
 
 Even the sun seems to shine more brighdy 
 on the Boulevarts of Paris than elsewhere ; 
 owing, probably, to the dazzling whiteness of its 
 houses, and the number of gaudy objects re- 
 flecting back from its gay magazins the gladness 
 of day. Above, balconies of flowers, Genoese 
 blinds, gilded balustrades, rising story above 
 story ; below, windows composed of single panes 
 of plate-glass, giving to view the rich treasures 
 of the jeweller, the parti-coloured luxuries of the
 
 94 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 confectioner, or the gay streamers of the haber- 
 dasher, form the chief attraction to the stranger; 
 who sees ladies of fashion in the well-dressed 
 women seated in rows of chairs under the trees 
 overshading the front of the Cafe de Paris, and 
 men of fashion in the overdressed adventurers 
 congregated before Tortoni's door, or haunting 
 the environs of the Bourse. 
 
 But to the resident Parisian, or the foreigner 
 de^hon ton using the Boulevarts only as a road 
 between the clubs, the Champs Elysees, and 
 Bois de Boulogne, there exists the further satis- 
 faction of noting as they pass the equipages of 
 the great and gay ; of exchanging salutations 
 with friends, and glances angry or contemp- 
 tuous with foes. For this, Greville was of 
 course still disqualified. He beheld cabriolets 
 at least as well appointed as those of his Crock- 
 fordite friends, without conceiving who or what 
 might be their showy proprietors; he passed 
 the door of Madame Adde, without being aware 
 that it differed from other flower-shops; — he 
 looked at the gay corheilles of Boissier, without 
 suspecting how important a part they had to
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 95 
 
 play in the histoire galante of modern Paris. 
 All lie noticed was the general hilarity of the 
 scene, — the elasticity of the air, — and, above all, 
 their unaccountable influence upon his own 
 heart and spu'its. 
 
 Pursuing his cheerful way along the gay 
 streets de la Paix and Castiglione, — the especial 
 quarter of the English, — he entered, almost 
 borne along with the throng, the gay gardens 
 of the Tuileries. 
 
 It was the second week of May, — the month 
 of blossoms, the month of verdure ; — when the 
 over-arching lime-trees appear to be formed of 
 one entire and perfect emerald, and the loftier 
 masses of chesnuts are lightened by a shower of 
 tufted bloom. On either side the stately alley 
 leading from the gate towards the palace, sat 
 triple rows of elegantly-dressed women, smiling 
 and chatting; while further on, towards the 
 flower-gardens, which at that auspicious moment 
 appeared clothed like Peau d'Ane with a robe 
 of lilac-blossoms, were groups of happy chil- 
 dren, laughing and skipping, having escaped 
 their tonnes and flung away their bonnets to
 
 96 greville; or, 
 
 enjoy under the shade of the green trees the 
 freshness of the bursting spring. 
 
 All in that variegated scene was new and 
 strange to Lord Greville. Among the white 
 marble statues peeping from out the foliage, 
 among the lovely women similarly environed, 
 not a single accustomed object, — not a single 
 familiar face ! — A foreign language was breathed 
 around him, — a foreign soil was under his feet. 
 Yet he did not feel lonely, — he did not fancy 
 himself an alien. In every other foreign country, 
 a sense of strangeness appears to isolate the 
 traveller ; — in France, an universal air of glad- 
 ness seems to say, — " be one of us — you are 
 welcome !" — 
 
 Frederick Massingberd was provoked to 
 almost more than his customary hrusquerie, 
 when, twenty minutes after the appointed time, 
 Greville made his re-appearance at the hotel. 
 
 '* We shall be deucedly late!" — said he. " The 
 cabriolet has been half-an-hour at the door !" — 
 
 «^ As we have no one to dine with us, and as 
 it is only at a cafe — *' Lord Greville was begin-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 97 
 
 " A diner de commande at a first-rate restau- 
 rant is as sacred as in a private house !" inter- 
 rupted his friend. " They are ready to a 
 second, and expect us to be the same." 
 
 " If you expected me to a second, I sincerely 
 beg your pardon !" cried Greville, laughing. 
 " But it strikes me I have waited for you more 
 than half-an-hour, before now, — and on more 
 solemn occasions." 
 
 " But where on earth have you been ?" 
 
 *' Lounging about. — In Paris, they say, every- 
 one becomes 2i flaneur.'^ 
 
 " Yes, in a proper way. But not on foot, — 
 not on the pave, — not with the thermometer at 
 82. — Whom have you seen ?" 
 
 " Whom ? — thousands of people." — 
 
 " People ! — I mean, have you met anybody 
 one knows ?" — 
 
 " No one of my acquaintance ; yours is, of 
 course, more extensive. You should have been 
 with me, to account for some of the numberless 
 pretty faces I saw for the first time." 
 
 " Then what in Heaven's name detained 
 you?" persisted Fred, as he drove recklessly 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 9(S GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 down the Rue cle Richelieu towards the Palais 
 Royal. 
 
 '* The stupid wonder of a novice. I was in- 
 expressibly pleased and amused by all I saw." 
 
 " My dear fellow, you must really be more 
 cautious in yielding to such impressions/' said 
 Massingberd, gravely. '* Remember, you are 
 not known here ; — you have your way to make. 
 An Englishman who has been seen neither at 
 the Embassy nor the Union, who goes staring 
 along the Boulevarts, and wanders alone among 
 the nursery-maids in the Tuileries, incurs dread- 
 ful risk of beinor set down as a tiffer." 
 
 " I am sadly afraid, then, that I have com- 
 mitted myself, and consequently t/om," — cried 
 Greville, laughing anew at his solemnity. 
 " Forgive me ! — I shall know better in a day or 
 two. Under your guidance, I trust I shall be- 
 come thoroughly Parisianized by the time 
 Madame de Rostanges and her sister arrive." 
 
 '^ I must first ascertain whether these Ros- 
 tanges are people with whom one can associate," 
 replied Massingberd, checking his horse in a 
 dark filthy street to the rear of the Palais Royal,
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 99 
 
 containing the private entrance to its principal 
 restaurants and popular theatre, and encum- 
 bered with fruit-stalls, gamins, and houquetieres. 
 And even Lord Greville, albeit unapt to play the 
 fastidious, could not forbear noticing with disjrust 
 the filthiness of Very's vestibule, crowded three 
 parts of the year with oyster-women brandishing 
 their knives, and the remaining portion with dirty 
 jnarmitons shredding anchovies into unsightly 
 heaps of very vermicular complexion. 
 
 " Not here — we are not going to dine m the 
 salon /" — cried Massingberd, in a rage, as the 
 gargon, with his skirtless jacket and white apron, 
 shewed the way into a spacious saloon, whose 
 widely -open windows overlooked the green 
 alleys of the gardens of the Palais Royal, in 
 which at that hour hundreds of persons were 
 enjoying their newspaper and their demie tasse, 
 " The dinner was ordered by my courrier. 
 Shew us into our cabinet.''^ 
 
 It was in vain the civil waiter assured the 
 
 indignant Massingberd that " the courier had 
 
 said nothing of a cahinet particulier ; — that the 
 
 courier had probably supposed ces messieurs 
 
 f2
 
 100 greville; or, 
 
 would find it more cheerful in the public room 
 than in a close little chamber." — The dandy 
 answered by a torrent of hybrid oaths, half 
 English, half French ; insisting that a cabinet 
 should be instantly prepared to receive them. 
 After a moment's anxious colloquy with the 
 dame du comptoir, to whom the insolent irrita- 
 bility of English exquisitism was probably fami- 
 liar, they were entreated to wait a moment, 
 while a lady and gentleman who were paying 
 their bill made a hasty exit; and, instead of 
 sitting down to the comfortable table pre- 
 pared for them beside the open window, were 
 shewn into a little stuffy closet looking towards 
 the dirty, noisy street, strongly perfumed by 
 the pommes de terre a la Lyonnaise and 
 other savoury plats enjoyed by their prede- 
 cessors. 
 
 ^' Here, we shall be completely to ourselves, — 
 here, we shall be comfortable !" — cried Massing- 
 berd, as the gar^on proceeded to disencumber 
 a chamber, the size of a four-post bedstead, of 
 the dirty plates and dirty tablecloth. " One 
 could not possibly dine in that horrible salon^
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 101 
 
 — full of English — English of all sorts and condi- 
 tions of vulgarity." 
 
 " I saw several gentlemanly old Frenchmen 
 look up from their dinners, surprised and dis- 
 turbed by our sudden entrance and exit," said 
 Greville, taking up the Charivari while waiting 
 for his bisque cVecrevisses. 
 
 '' Chevaliers (Tindustrie, most likely," retorted 
 Massingberd, in his usual tone of disparage- 
 ment. '^ What wine shall we have ? — some 
 Comete Chablis ? — No ! — it is the Rocher which 
 is famous for that. — We will try the Condriac 
 with our fish, — then, some light claret." 
 
 " I condition only for champagne, and well 
 iced," said Greville, oppressed by his hot and 
 dusty walk of the morning. 
 
 " Not till the dessert, I entreat !" cried Mas- 
 singberd ; '' unless you wish to be set down as an 
 unsophisticated John Bull. It is so thoroughly 
 English to come to a cafe and call for cham- 
 pagne before the soup is oflP the table !" — 
 
 " Will you allow me some seltzer water, then, 
 and some hock ?" — 
 
 " Viji du Rhin, and welcome," replied the
 
 102 
 
 gastronome. And Greville found that, to lead a 
 quiet life with his friend, he must eat, drink, 
 and sleep only according to his discretion. 
 
 The dinner, though sworn at dish by dish by 
 Massingberd, proved its own excellence by 
 putting him into high good humour. There 
 were some coquilles de volaille a la financiered 
 which the Crockfordite pronounced to be worthy 
 of Francatelle ; and by the time he reached his 
 groseilles de Bar and biscuits de Rheims, with a 
 sedative of scubac clear as a jacynth, he would 
 have allowed Lord Greville to go and amuse 
 himself at almost any theatre in Paris. 
 
 *^ After such a dinner, and so many months' 
 abstinence from viands fit to be placed before a 
 Christian," cried Fred, as they re-entered their 
 cabriolet, " one feels as if existence were not 
 quite so great a bore ; — one feels as if there were 
 still something worth living for." 
 
 Lord Greville, who was of opinion tliat this 
 world contains a variety of things worth living 
 for, even without reference to the tpigramme 
 d'agneau and meringue glace he was digesting, 
 ventured to inquire of his companion in
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 103 
 
 what manner he intended to dispose of their 
 evening. 
 
 *' La belle Wilmen is no longer here, and 
 Dejazet's name is not in the qffiche to-night, or 
 I should have proposed remaining where we 
 are," said he, as they passed that dirty, but 
 amusing little temple of ungodliness, — theTheatre 
 of the Palais Royal. " To say the truth," he 
 continued, mysteriously, <' I have a word or two 
 to say to St. George, at the club. You shall 
 drop me near the Rue de Grammont. I recom- 
 mend 7/ou to try the Vaudeville. — One is always 
 amused at the Vaudeville — or, at worst, made 
 to forget that one is bored." 
 
 It happened that Greville had no sensation 
 of the kind from which he wished to be relieved. 
 He was as happy as youth, health, fortune, and 
 the absence of painful or remorseful reminis- 
 cences can render a man. He had a clear 
 conscience, and a good digestion ; nothing to 
 regret — little to repent ; — and, above all, he had 
 been redeemed from the horrible satieties which 
 beset the precocious biases of the day by the habits 
 of his early education. It would have been
 
 104 greville; or, 
 
 difficult to point out a circumstance in his con- 
 dition that admitted of being altered for the 
 better. 
 
 Perhaps, however, had the question been 
 asked him as Frederick Massingberd alighted 
 from the cabriolet opposite to Chardin's fragrant 
 door, he might have been tempted to answer 
 that his happiness would be more complete were 
 the family of the Marquis de Rostanges already 
 arrived in Paris. Now that the sunshine shone 
 no longer on the green trees and bright faces of 
 the Boulevarts, he did feel somewhat isolated in 
 that gay and stirring metropolis, where no hand 
 was outstretched towards him. '^ Take the 
 reins, and drive to the Rue St. Dominique !" 
 said he, abruptly addressing the tiger of Mas- 
 singberd's cabriolet de remise, 
 
 '' To what number. Sir?" — demanded the man. 
 
 *' No matter, — I will tell you when we arrive," 
 he replied, not caring to acknowledge that, 
 instead of a definite object in the expedition, he 
 merely desired a passing view of the house spe- 
 cified by the Marquis de Rostanges as his habi- 
 tation.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 105 
 
 Unskilled in the localities of Paris, Greville 
 was unaware of the vast distance between the 
 quarter of gay theatres and fashionable coffee- 
 houses, and that of the head-quarters of the 
 aristocracy. At present, all he knew was from 
 the map, where the words Faubourg Mont- 
 martre, Faubourg St. Antoine, assert as much 
 to the eye as those of Faubourg St. Honore 
 or Faubourg St. Germain ; nor could he sur- 
 mise that the question " Is he of the Faubourg?" 
 applied by the exclusive to young Frenchmen 
 of his own condition of life, not only implies 
 exclusively the one Faubourg needful, — the 
 Faubourg St. Germain, — but, *^ Is he a person 
 with whom we can associate ?" — 
 
 All that now struck him concerning the 
 Faubourg St. Germain, was its remoteness. 
 They traversed the Place de la Concorde, 
 gleaming with a thousand lights, and presenting 
 its wide asphaltic terraces for the recreation of 
 multitudes enjoying in all directions the fra- 
 grance of the adjoining gardens of the Tuileries, 
 and the warm serenity of an enchanting summer 
 night. Then, crossing the bridge towards the 
 f3
 
 106 greville; or, 
 
 Chamber of Deputies, entered the dull narrow 
 streets of the less populous and less frequented 
 quarter of the inoperative class of society. 
 
 " What number. Sir ?" — again demanded the 
 driver, as they turned into a long dingy street, 
 presenting to a stranger's eye a disagreeable 
 contrast with the broad foot pavements and 
 brilliant linjhts of the Boulevarts. 
 
 ** Drive on, and I will stop you," replied 
 Greville. But he was careful not to say a word 
 as they passed the \ohy porte cochere surmounted 
 by an armorial escutcheon, which bore the 
 number indicated by the Marquis. It was a 
 dark, heavy-looking frontage. There was no- 
 thing auspicious in its aspect ; nothing that 
 inspired a hope of happy days to be enjoyed 
 within. Even the joyous heart of the young 
 Earl became less elated as, pretending to remem- 
 ber an engagement, he suddenly ordered the 
 driver to return to the Hotel des Princes. He 
 had just discovered that he was wretchedly tired 
 with his journey, and that his best solace would 
 be a cigar, and rest. 
 
 The Hotel de Rostanges, which, seen by the
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 107 
 
 dim light of a reverhere slung across the centre 
 of the street, produced this unfavourable im- 
 pression, was, nevertheless, a residence such as 
 the Parisians of high caste delight in ; — entre cour 
 et jardin, — that is, having an ill- paved court- 
 yard in front, rendered unsightly by the stables 
 and their appendages ; and in the rear, a small 
 garden, surrounded by lofty walls, obscuring the 
 inner apartments of the rez de chausce, and 
 securing dulness and dampness for the whole 
 house. Still, it was the Hotel de Rostanges ; 
 the self-same house in which, a century before 
 the Marchionesses of Rostanges had smiled upon 
 the gallantries of the Richelieus and Boufflers 
 of their day ; the self-same house in which 
 bigotry, ignorance, vanity, and pride, had united 
 to create a race tending to engender the mad- 
 ness of the first revolution and the folly of the 
 second. 
 
 The family of Rostanges was one of those 
 which, though devoid of historical associations, 
 maintain a high place among the fugitive 
 archives of society. It had given no field- 
 marshals to the armies of the Bourbons, — no
 
 108 greville; or, 
 
 statesmen to their cabinets, — no prelates to their 
 church ; but it had long held an honourable 
 station in the salons of Paris ; had done nothing 
 notable, but nothing to be ashamed of. Its 
 alliances were irreproachable ; its breeding pure 
 as its blood. During the epochs when a dis- 
 solute court was the order of the day, there was 
 always a chevalier, or abbe, or Marquis de Ros- 
 tanges, eminent for his succis de coulisses, or 
 celebrated as the proprietor of some remarkable 
 horse, or popular opera dancer. But no sooner 
 was decorum re-established on the throne, than 
 the family was heard of represented by some 
 devout dowager, or exemplary marquise, a char- 
 tered saint, the providence of all the parishes of 
 the Faubourg. 
 
 Though occupying high posts in the dissolute 
 household of Louis XV., they had managed to 
 make themselves fully as acceptable to his ami- 
 able successor; and while the most prudent self- 
 seclusion preserved them from demonstration 
 during the period of emigration, so that they 
 contrived to be overlooked during the reign of 
 terror, scarcely had the waters of strife subsided,
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 109 
 
 when the ark of the Rostanges family was found, 
 as usual, floating calmly on the surface ! — They 
 participated, though with the saving clause of 
 pretended reluctance, in the bounties of the 
 Emperor ; and were consequently enabled to 
 throw up their hats for the Bourbons, when the 
 white flag floated anew over the palace of the 
 Tuileries. During the alternation that follow^ed, 
 according to the French proverb, lis ont mangt 
 aux deux rateliers. 
 
 The present Marquis was at that period a 
 cadet de famille, cousin to the young child in 
 whom were concentered the honours of his house ; 
 and right glad to accept, in the favours of the 
 court, the reward conceded to the easy loyalty 
 of the elders of his race. He was then only the 
 handsome Adolphe de Rostanges, the darling of 
 the petit chateau ; flourishing his aiguillettes as 
 an equerry, and connecting himself but slightly 
 with the Hotel in the Rue St. Dominique, or 
 the fine Chateau des Etangs, which were under 
 the domination of the widowed Marchioness, 
 mother of the representative of the family and 
 his sister Claire,
 
 110 greville; or, 
 
 The world — that is, the great world — hailed 
 in the showy elegant of the court of Madame a 
 charming creature, who gave laws to tailors and 
 made love to princesses. He had a name in 
 the coteries greater than mere title. He was 
 " Adolphe de Rostanges," whom not to know as 
 he galloped on his gris pommele along the 
 Champs Ely sees, argued yourself unknowing, if 
 not unknown. To Mm, therefore, at the epoch 
 of the Restoration, rather than to the youthful 
 heir of the house, might the family be said 
 to owe its notoriety. The Rostanges were 
 invariably spoken of to foreigners as " tres hons 
 gentilhommes,^'^ — the French designation of high 
 nobility ; or ** tout ce quHl y a de plus comme il 
 faut^' — the Parisian paraphrase of fashionable 
 worthlessness and frivolity. 
 
 It was scarcely remembered, indeed, that there 
 was a Marquis de Rostanges in the world as 
 well as an Adolphe ; when, lo ! just at the epoch 
 of the Revolution of 1830, just as Adolphe was 
 getting a little too grey and wrinkled to be 
 called Adolphe any longer, the accession of a 
 new dynasty enabled the superannuated equerry
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. Ill 
 
 to take leave with decency of the irregularities 
 of his youth ; — to repent himself of his former idle 
 and ornamental existence, — to remember that it 
 was to the Orleans branch of the Bourbon 
 family he had always felt a more intimate attach- 
 ment, — and to accept a diplomatic mission to 
 some northern court, returning with a ribbon 
 and the historical designation of Monsieur le 
 Baron de Rostanges. 
 
 It is something, when fairly extinguished as 
 the Adolphe or Antonin of fashionable life, to 
 be able to subside into a Monsieur le Baron 
 des affaires etrangeres ! But the hero in ques- 
 tion was destined to become even more. Further 
 greatness was to be thrust upon him. 
 
 Spirits are not finely touched 
 Save to fine issues ; 
 
 and it was impossible that nature could have 
 intended so imposing a figure, or so urbane 
 a disposition, as that of the new Baron, for any 
 other purpose than that of a chefdefamille. The 
 comparatively obscure young Marquis died ac- 
 cordingly of a deep decline ere he attained his
 
 112 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 twentieth year ; and though a considerable por- 
 tion of his large personalty was inherited by his 
 only sister, the estate of Rostanges, being one of 
 the few majorats remaining in France, the uncle 
 who succeeded to the title had to congratulate 
 himself on the acquisition of more than mere 
 barren honours. 
 
 It was a singular destiny ! — In his youth to 
 enjoy the distinctions of fashion as the elegant 
 par excellence of his day ; in his old age, when 
 those distinctions had departed, the more posi- 
 tive advantages of rank and fortune! — Though 
 scarcely more courted as the wealthy Marquis 
 than as the handsome Adolphe, it was a miracle, 
 amid tlie decline and fall of his contemporaries, 
 to remain at par. 
 
 His new honours, meanwhile, brought with 
 them new duties. The ci-devant elegant was not 
 only obliged to take possession of the hotel in 
 the Rue St. Dominique, which he found far less 
 agreeable than his bachelor entresol in the Rue 
 d'Artois, but to reside occasionally at his mag- 
 nificent Chateau des Etangs, which he found 
 duller still. The superannuated Adam, weary
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 113 
 
 of his desolate Eden, was not sorry to be re- 
 minded by all the mammas and aunts of his 
 acquaintance that it was incumbent on him to 
 secure the ancient house of Rostanges from ex- 
 tinction, by a timely marriage. *' He was only 
 fifty-five years of age ; — still handsome, still 
 charming. The noblest families of France would 
 be proud of his alliance.*' — 
 
 For nearly a year, the Marquis suffered him- 
 self to be assured and re-assured of this, as if 
 waiting only sufficient encouragement to seek 
 a wife. At length, on being closer pressed, he 
 owned that she was both sought and found; 
 that he was on the eve of marriage with the 
 lovely Sophie de Nangis, the affianced of his 
 deceased young cousin. 
 
 " Sophie de Nangis ! — a beautiful girl of 
 seventeen, of distinguished descent, and suffi- 
 cient fortune ! — The world was astonished, but 
 the world could do no otherwise than approve ! 
 Yet, though she too had approved, no one was 
 more astonished on the occasion than the lovely 
 bride. 
 
 Sophie and Eugenie de Nangis, orphans from
 
 114 greville; or, 
 
 an early age, had been educated according to 
 the custom of their country, as pensionnaires in 
 a convent ; the elder sister being contracted lo 
 the young Marquis de Rostanges, with whose 
 mother she was closely connected by ties of 
 blood. It was a very suitable marriage. The 
 little girl, when gossiping concerning her future 
 honours with her sister and young companions, 
 was invariably told of the splendours of the 
 Chateau des Etangs, the delights of the Hotel 
 de Rostanges, and the brilliant part she would 
 have to play hereafter in the society of the 
 Faubourg; and as she advanced in years, the 
 day of Sophie's emancipation from the convent, 
 her marriage day, was anxiously dwelt upon, 
 — with all its pomp and circumstance of the cor^ 
 beille de mariage offered by the bridegroom, — the 
 trousseau provided by her guardian, the family 
 diamonds, the cachemires, the point lace, — the 
 everything that bewilders a young imagination 
 tied down to the petty observances of a con- 
 vent. 
 
 Sophie de Nangis smiled as she listened to 
 these details. Though of a mild submissive dis-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 115 
 
 position, she felt that she should be glad to 
 enjoy a freer portion of the beauties of nature 
 and the pleasures of life than were to be found 
 within four high walls in the Rue des Fosses St. 
 Victor; and was pleased at the idea of being 
 able to afford a happy home to her sister 
 Eugenie, who, more petulant than herself, was 
 at continual war with the constituted authorities 
 in hood and wimple, by whose precepts and 
 example her irritabilities were restrained. 
 
 But she smiled less cheerfully from the period 
 when, on the accomplishment of her fifteenth 
 year, the Marquise de Rostanges obtained per- 
 mission for the two girls to spend new year's 
 day at her hotel, in order to introduce to her 
 acquaintance the future bridegroom. It was 
 not that the mansion in the Rue St. Dominique 
 appeared as gloomy to her as it had seemed en 
 passant to Lord Greville ; on the contrary, 
 compared with the denuded walls to which they 
 were accustomed, the two girls regarded it as an 
 earthly paradise. But, alas I the companion of 
 whom she had dreamed in her girlish reveries, — 
 the hero of her romance, — the superior being to
 
 116 greville; or, 
 
 whom she was to dedicate the affections of her 
 heart, — proved to be a raw boy, — feeble, awk- 
 ward, ungracious, unattractive. 
 
 Sophie de Nangis was deeply discouraged. 
 She felt the impossibility of attaching herself to 
 such a being. From that day, she addressed 
 herself with renewed ardour to her devotions, as 
 if conscious of the necessity of supplying herself 
 with a more stable support in life. She saw 
 that existence was not to be the thing she had 
 imagined, and resigned herself despondingly to 
 her lot. It was all she could do to exhibit be- 
 coming sympathy, when, a few months after- 
 wards, the alarming illness of the young Marquis 
 was solemnly communicated to her, and in pro- 
 cess of time, his death. 
 
 She felt almost ashamed, in her consciousness 
 of release, to find herself an object of universal 
 commiseration. ^' Poor Sophie ! — cette chere et 
 bonne demoiselle /" — the family diamonds, — the 
 corheille de mariage, — the trousseau^ — all gone, 
 all vanished! — In three months she was to 
 have become Marchioness de Rostanges, — to 
 have had her opera box, her carriages, her
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 117 
 
 horses, her tribune at St. Thomas d'Aquin, — 
 her all — her everything ! — In three months, she 
 was to have become the happiest of women ! 
 
 " In three months/' added Eugenie de Nangis 
 in a murmur, — " in three months we should 
 have been /ree /" — 
 
 Sophie, meanwhile, whose notions of such free- 
 dom were modified by recollections of the poor 
 young Marquis's sallow and unintelligent counte- 
 nance, trusted that she preserved the decorous 
 show of regret indispensable on the occasion. 
 She did, however, sympathize sincerely in the 
 grief of the poor Marchioness and of her cousin 
 Claire; offering her condolences with respect, and 
 accepting theirs with gratitude. In the course of 
 the year, she received with amazement and con- 
 sternation, from the Marchioness de Rostanges, 
 a hint that the successor to her son's honours 
 and estates was desirous of adding to these ad- 
 vantages that of her alliance ; and in due time, 
 the new Marquis himself, accompanied by her 
 guardian, and presented by the Marquise her 
 kinswoman, was announced with due ceremony 
 at the parloir.
 
 118 greville; or, 
 
 " You must not expect an accomplished youth 
 such as my son," had been the previous warning 
 of the Marquise de Rostanges. " The Marquis 
 is a grave, middle-aged man. But in becoming 
 his wife, my dear Sophie, you will at least occupy 
 the station so long awaiting you under happier 
 auspices, and thus, by God's will, accomplish 
 your allotted destiny." — 
 
 Dispirited by this solemn injunction, and the 
 associations produced by the name of her de- 
 ceased pretendu, most agreeable was the surprise 
 of poor Sophie on finding in the new aspirant a 
 courteous and agreeable man of the v>^orld. It 
 was impossible to present himself with a better 
 grace, — it was impossible to testify greater de- 
 ference than was exhibited by the experienced 
 courtier towards the little pensionnaire in her 
 blue sash and muslin frock. The respect over- 
 came her reluctance. She had not prepared 
 herself for respect. She had often dreamed of 
 devoted lovers, and charming etourdis ; — but to 
 be treated like a queen by a man whose manners 
 were those of a person accustomed to queenly 
 presence, raised her immensely in her own esti-
 
 A SEASON IX PARIS. 119 
 
 mation. Her consent was given on the follow- 
 ing day. 
 
 It was a match such as Paris — that is, such 
 as the Faubourg containing the exclusive 
 society of Paris — invariably approves. The 
 sole disparity was in years ; and the bride, the 
 only person justified in objecting, rather rejoiced 
 in the change which assigned her an agreeable 
 and distinguished friend instead of an uncom- 
 panionable boy. The convent applauded ; for 
 the same corheilkj trousseau, family diamonds, 
 and point lace, awaited the bride : and the same 
 lavish gift of bonbons, bouquets, and friandises 
 of all young-ladylike description, themselves. 
 Eugenie, too, was enchanted ! — the Marquis 
 de Rostanf]res beinor charmed to secure so eli- 
 gible a companion as Mademoiselle de Nangis 
 for the young wife, who might otherwise miss 
 the associates of her own age to whom she had 
 been so long accustomed. 
 
 The wedding, in short, was a very happy one, 
 as well as a very brilliant ; and in the winter of 
 1836, Madame la Marquise de Rostanges was 
 installed in her Hotel in the Rue St. Dominique,
 
 120 greville; on, 
 
 prepared to divide her future life between the 
 slender domestic duties of a woman of fashion, 
 and the substantial pleasures becoming the rank 
 and fortune of her husband.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 121 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 On filait de tristes amours 
 
 Constante, begueule, et devote, 
 Dans son .chateau flanqu^ de tours. 
 
 PORCIEN. 
 
 Two years had since elapsed. The timid 
 pensionnaire had expanded into the elegant 
 young woman ; and the wilful Eugenie into the 
 lovelv Mademoiselle de Nangis. 
 
 Already, the brilliant circle assembled round 
 the young Marquise began to remind her that 
 it was time to think of an establishment in life 
 for her sister; that she must shortly be intro- 
 duced into the gay world, where the customs of 
 their society scarcely admitted of her appearing, 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 greville; or, 
 
 save under the protection of a husband. Their 
 cousin Claire de Rostanges, now the brilHant 
 Duchesse de St. Pierre, was urgent in offering 
 to their acceptance several matches, likely at all 
 events to augment the family consequence, if 
 not to secure the happiness of Mademoiselle de 
 Nangis; and more than one country neighbour 
 of the Chateau des Etangs had requested the 
 intercession of the Marquis with his sister-in-law. 
 But Eugenie gravely declined the interposi- 
 tion of the one ; and laughingly, that of the 
 other. 
 
 " I have at present seen nothing of the world," 
 said she. " A new order of things is gradually 
 introducing itself among us. A mariage de 
 convenance is no longer an inevitable evil. Many 
 of my young friends have been permitted to see 
 and judge for themselves, previous to ventur- 
 ing upon the grand step of matrimony. I de- 
 mand the same privilege. I am of a wayward 
 disposition ; my wilfulness would break the heart 
 of any man whom I married without feeling for 
 him the degree of affection necessary to the con- 
 trol of such a character as mine." —
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 123 
 
 " You describe yourself as a she-wolf, my 
 dearest Eugenie!" her brother-in-law would 
 mildly remonstrate. " Yet during the two years 
 we have lived together, I have never seen your 
 temper so much as ruffled !" — 
 
 " How should you ? — Have you not forestalled 
 all my whims, — all my wishes ?" — was Eugenie^s 
 reply. " Is not Sophie an angel, with whom the 
 most reckless person breathing would find it 
 difficult to disagree ; — an angel with whom ' don- 
 ner et pardonner' is the golden rule of life ?" — 
 
 " But my friend the Comte de St. Sevron 
 would equally forestal your whims and wishes," 
 resumed the Marquis. '' Or, if you persist in 
 rejecting him, your worthy cousin. Colonel 
 d'Aramon, is a man so easy and so frank, 
 that—" 
 
 " — I find him insupportable ! — " retorted 
 Eugenie. And Madame de Rostanges, who, 
 though happy in her domestic life, felt that the 
 completeness of her comfort was in a great mea- 
 sure attributable to the cheerful and affectionate 
 companionship of her sister, did litde to encou- 
 rage either these, or still more brilliant projects 
 G 2
 
 124 greville; or, 
 
 for her establishment in life. Eugenie was so 
 young, — they were all so happy together, — that 
 she thought there was no need to hurry her 
 choice; and the Marquis, who, since their mar- 
 riage, had never yet discovered an opinion of 
 his gentle Sophie in which he could not impli- 
 citly coincide, sanctioned the decree. The 
 suitors, therefore, were once more courteously 
 dismissed. 
 
 Such was the state of affairs when, as they 
 were about to repair to Paris from the Chateau 
 des Etangs for the winter, in order that Made- 
 moiselle de Nangis might be inaugurated into 
 the pleasures of the carnival, the Fates, jealous 
 of the long career of prosperity assigned to the 
 Adolphe of the court of Louis XVIII., — the 
 Monsieur le Marquis of the court of Louis 
 Philippe, — decreed that a severe cold, caught in 
 a shooting expedition early in the month of 
 September, should produce such alarming symp 
 toms as necessitated a removal to a milder cli- 
 mate. The Parisian physicians, though main- 
 taining, of course, that the atmosphere of Paris 
 is the purest and best in the world, admitted that
 
 A SEASON IX PARIS. 125 
 
 the life of their patient could only be saved by 
 hastening to Italy. To Italy accordingly they 
 went. It was on their return from a winter at 
 Rome, that the brown Noah's-ark containing 
 the family party, had attracted the notice of 
 Lord Greville ; and very little did any of 
 them conjecture the importance which circum- 
 stances were likely to assign to this fortuitous 
 encounter. 
 
 Meanwhile, the porter's lodge of the old hotel 
 in the Rue St. Dominique was hourly visited by 
 anxious friends, and idle acquaintances eager to 
 be anxious about anything, with inquiries after 
 the travellers. They had been more than six 
 months absent. They must have much to tell, 
 or had, at all events, much to hear, which 
 sometimes constitutes the greater merit. The 
 circle in which they lived was curious to ascertain 
 whether the invalid were restored to health, or 
 only patched up for a season ; and to know 
 whether Mademoiselle de Nangis had returned 
 hand-free and heart-free from Italy, to be still 
 an object of consideration to families having 
 sons or nephews to dispose of.
 
 126 greville; or, 
 
 The Duchesse de St. Pierre came every day ; 
 the Princesse de Chaulieu, and her daughter 
 Sidonie (the convent bonne amie of Mademoi- 
 selle de Nangis) almost every hour ; and when 
 the travellers really made their appearance, and 
 it vi^as found that the delay had been produced 
 by a dangerous incident, — an adventure, — an 
 adventure how strangely heightened in interest 
 by the animated gesticulation and intonation 
 of the nai-rators, — they increased in value a 
 thousand-fold in the estimation of those who 
 so warmly embraced them on their domestic 
 threshold. 
 
 *' The poor Marquis must have suffered mar- 
 tyrdom ! — I fear all the advantages derived from 
 3'our sad exile from Paris this winter have been 
 thrown away !" — cried Madame de St. Pierre. 
 " We have had the most charming balls, my 
 dear Sophie; — a hal costume, of which I will 
 tell you the particulars another time ; and at 
 which I appeared as Lady Jane Grey, with all 
 my diamonds, and " 
 
 *' Yes, you wrote us word of it," interrupted 
 Eugenie, whose more interesting conversation
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 127 
 
 with Sidonie the elegant egotist was inter- 
 rupting. 
 
 ** And so the life of ce cher Marquis was pre- 
 served by the intrepidity of a charming young 
 Russian !" — interrupted the chattering old Prin- 
 cess de Chaulieu, in her turn. — '* An English- 
 man, was he ? — ay ! a foreigner, at all events, — 
 it comes exactly to the same thing. I dare say 
 he was aware of his good fortune, in being the 
 instrument of saving the days of a chef de famille 
 of so much importance as our dear marquis ! 
 He knew what he was about ! — Has he applied 
 yet for a reward ? — Ce cher Marquis will behave 
 with his accustomed liberality ! — Ah ! the young 
 Russian is a man of fortune ! — so much the 
 better ! — you will escape the recompence, and it 
 adds interest to the affair. You must tell me 
 his name, that I may be able to recount the 
 story correctly at the Austrian Embassy, where 
 I shall look in a moment to-night after the 
 opera. — But those Russian names are such 
 a perfect casse-tete, — ' Nevile,' « Grevilcy — 
 ' Dtmle^ — comment Vappelez vous ? — At all 
 events, you are sure of your man, — you are
 
 1*28 greville; or, 
 
 certain that he is not an adventurer, — you are 
 persuaded that it was not he who set fire to the 
 chateau, either as an ecorcheur, or lo pretend 
 to come to your assistance ? — quite sure ? So 
 much the better ! — Ah ! you arrived at Paris 
 in his carriage ! — What a nuisance for you, my 
 poor dear Marchioness, to be obliged to abandon 
 your own comfortable herline ! — Those English 
 travelling-carriages, which look so bright and 
 showy, are terribly incommodious ! — There is 
 no place for anything, — that is, there is a place 
 for everything, — exactly where one don't want 
 to put it ! — Indeed ! — The Marquis gone to 
 renew his thanks to this invaluable friend ! — 
 Where does he lodge ? — At the Hotel des 
 Princes ? — In the Rue de Richelieu ? — My dear 
 children, how could you allow a person in 
 whom you are interested, to put up in such a 
 quarter? — He will be pillaged — ruined! — And 
 then, a league out of the way, — a league out of 
 the world, — a league from the Faubourg !" — 
 
 More, much more, would the garrulous old 
 princesse have added, but that the Marquis de 
 Rostanges, accompanied by the individual under
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 129 
 
 discussion, at that moment entered the room. 
 He needed no announcement. The earnest 
 manner in which the Marchioness and her sister 
 advanced to welcome him, sufficed to prove to 
 their guests that the handsome stranger was no 
 other than the hero of the Grangeneuve ro- 
 mance. 
 
 With the graceful cordiality peculiar to the 
 manners of their nation, the Duchesse de St. 
 Pierre, Sidonie and her mother, immediately 
 entreated an introduction to the friend to whom 
 they were all so much indebted ; and to the 
 great surprise of Greville, who had recoiled on 
 finding the salon of Madame de Rostanges 
 filled with strangers, he found himself a few 
 minutes afterwards, seated familiarly in the midst 
 of them, replying without embarrassment to 
 questions made without embarrassment, though 
 of the most embarrassing nature. 
 
 " It is strange enough," said he, in describing 
 the scene afterwards to Frederick Massingberd, 
 "that I, whom you accuse of being reserved, 
 and who feel myself to be the shyest dog on 
 earth, am never gene among French people !"— 
 g3
 
 130 greville; or, 
 
 " I suppose their cursed impudence serves to 
 put you at your ease," replied the most modest 
 of dandies. 
 
 '^ Noj — I know many impudent people who 
 never put me at my ease," replied Greville, 
 drily. "I believe it to arise from their great 
 simplicity of manners. The English are always 
 pretending to be something beyond their reality ; 
 the French are content to appear wliat they are. 
 Our country-people, with great affectation of 
 sincerity, are the least genuine of created beings. 
 An Englishman situated with respect to me as 
 the Marquis de Rostanges is, would have sent 
 me a dinner invitation at a fortnight's notice, 
 and got up a gorgeous entertainment. The old 
 gentleman on finding me alone here this morn- 
 ing, carried me off to his home, which I found 
 in all the confusion incident on their recent 
 arrival ; presented me sans fagon to his friends ; 
 and would have fain. have me share what he called 
 his soupe and houilli to-day, had I not pleaded my 
 engagement with you and St. George at the 
 Rocher." 
 
 " What an escape ! — you have no conception
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 131 
 
 of the ordinaire of an ordinary French family !" 
 cried Massingberd, with an air of nausea. 
 
 " I am no great gourmand, I should have 
 been quite satisfied to pass the day and dine 
 with them, as they wished," replied Greville ; 
 *^ but I know that you and St. George would 
 make an outcry. However, I have promised 
 that we will both dine there to-morrow !" — 
 
 ^'Thanks! — I hope I know better! — St. 
 George and I dine at the club." — 
 
 " You must write your own excuse, then !" 
 
 '* Not I. I have not French enough for any 
 such undertaking. You may tell them that I 
 had another enf^aorement." 
 
 o o 
 
 " But you would not be guilty of such rude- 
 ness to any Englishman of Monsieur de Ros- 
 tanges's age and rank ? — Why give him such an 
 opinion of our ill-breeding as must arise from 
 such marked disrespect ?" — cried the Earl. 
 
 '^ Disrespect ! — Why who on earth ever heard 
 of the Marquis de Rostanges ?" — exclaimed 
 Massingberd. 
 
 " Who on earth — out of England — ever heard 
 of half our own nobility?" — argued Greville.
 
 132 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 " The Marquis seems to hold an excellent posi- 
 tion here." 
 
 " My dear fellow, — remember the brown 
 Noah's-ark ! — Recollect the snobbish country- 
 cousin who burnt down his house toasting cakes 
 for their supper !" — 
 
 '' Recollect the equipages of some of the 
 eminentissimi of Italy," replied Greville. " And 
 what great family in England but has some 
 small squire of a country cousin, among its junior 
 branches ?" — Then, hastily resuming, lest Mas- 
 singberd might see in this remark a sarcasm 
 levelled at himself, he added — '' We must not 
 measure everything by the narrow scale of our 
 English experience. I am convinced that the 
 Rostanges family is one of high account ; and 
 whether it be so or not, it is one from whose 
 society I expect to derive my chief enjoyment 
 during my stay in Paris." 
 
 " Je vous en fais man compliment ! — All I 
 entreat is, that you will allow me to look for my 
 amusements elsewhere !" — rejoined Fred Mas- 
 singberd, with unfeigned contempt. 
 
 " By the way," added the Earl, " the Prin-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 133 
 
 cesse de Chaulieu, to whom you were mentioned 
 by her friends the Rostanges, desired me to tell 
 you that she was at home every Tuesday even- 
 ing; and the Duchesse de St. Pierre, that she 
 receives every Thursday. You will, of course, 
 call on both as an acknowledgment of their 
 civility ?" — 
 
 " My fellow shall leave a card for me ; but as 
 to those cursed evening visits of the Faubourg, 
 all I have heard from St. George determines 
 me not to waste my time in any such corvee," 
 replied Fred. *' Madame de Chaulieu's, I find, 
 is the sort of coterie where everyone belongs to 
 somebody, — ou chacun a sa chacune, — and where 
 those who have not paired off, stand with their 
 hands in their pockets, looking tomhe dcs nues." 
 
 *' You are better versed in such matters than 
 I can pretend to be," said Greville, amused by 
 his affectation. " Next week, when I have seen 
 with my eyes and heard with my ears, I shall be 
 better able to take the field against you." 
 
 Meanwhile, the Earl was not ill pleased that 
 Massingberd should evince so much reluctance 
 to enter the society of the hotel de Rostanges.
 
 134 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 He was not yet prepared to admit, even to him- 
 self, how completely he was captivated by the 
 beauty and manners of both sisters, or the quiet 
 good breeding of the Marquis ; but he sav/ that 
 the pretensions and dandyism of Fred Massing- 
 berd would be thoroughly out of place among 
 them. His affectation of libertinism would 
 disgust Eugenie and her sister ; and his over- 
 bejjring and unmeaning self-sufficiency, startle 
 the easy old epicurean of a higher school. Gre- 
 ville felt, in short, that he should have been 
 embarrassed by Massingberd's companionship. 
 Simple in his own tastes, and unpretending in his 
 demeanour, he was prepared to be pleased and 
 to seek to please among the strangers who rated 
 so highly the kind offices he had been able to 
 render them. He did not wish to be disturbed 
 in the attempt by the slang and arrogance of 
 St. James's Street. 
 
 '^ Allans J done ! — You had better relent in your 
 own favour, and dine with us at the Union ?" — 
 persisted Fred, on the day when Greville was pro- 
 ceeding to keep his engagement in the Rue St. 
 Dominique. '* You were admitted this morning."
 
 A SEASON IN PARTS. 135 
 
 '* I told you before, that I had accepted the 
 invitation of Monsieur de Rostanges," replied 
 the Earl. 
 
 " But, of course, the old creature must have 
 known that the engagement was conditional of 
 finding nothing better ? — What right has a man 
 to expect punctuality in such mattei^, who will 
 give you pour tout potage a Julienne savouring of 
 burnt onions, — three or four greasy entrees, — 
 and a plat d'epinards looking like green baize 
 made easy I — I can see you now, making con- 
 tortions over his light Bourdeaux ! — Heavenly 
 powers ! — the domestic claret of a gentleman 
 who grows his ovi^n wine I" — 
 
 Lord Greville, however, was not to be intimi- 
 dated from his purpose ; and, as he expected, 
 he found the establishment of the Marquis de 
 Rostanges unostentatiously, but admirably, or- 
 ganized. If a few of the extraneous luxuries of 
 an English household were wanting, the cheerful 
 sociability with which the dinner was conducted 
 more than replaced the laborious pomp of a 
 London dinner party. 
 
 '* We are exact," observed the Marquis,
 
 136 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 sitting down precisely as the clock struck six, 
 " because we hope you will accompany us to the 
 opera. Madame de Rostanges has her box to- 
 night." 
 
 Lord Greville bowed his acceptance. This 
 was an improvement on the prospect of an 
 evening en famille. Yet, before dinner v/as 
 over, he began to feel that even an evening en 
 famille might be very tolerable with a man so 
 superabounding in anecdote and knowledge of 
 the world as Monsieur de Rostanges, a girl so in- 
 telligent as Eugenie de Nangis, and an auditor 
 so attentive and willing to be pleased as the 
 gentle Marchioness. Throughout dinner, the 
 conversation was lively and pointed, yet never at 
 the expense of others ; and when, at length, the 
 Earl took his place behind the chair of Madame 
 de Rostanges, in one of the best boxes at the 
 Academic, he felt in the happiest flow of spirits, 
 and prepared to enjoy a delightful evening. 
 
 Eugenie and her sister, young, lovely, conver- 
 sational, were companions not likely to diminish 
 his enjoyment of one of the masterpieces of 
 Meyerbeer.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 137 
 
 The brilliant aspect of the salle, differing so 
 agreeably from those which Greville had re- 
 cently visited in Italy, surprised and delighted 
 him. He even preferred the elegant demie 
 toilette of the female portion of the audience, to 
 the garishness of full dress adopted at the opera 
 in London. The simplicity of their attire, as 
 well as their profound attention to the music, 
 seemed to prove that they came thither to be 
 amused, rather than to exhibit themselves for 
 the amusement of others. It was the first time, 
 indeed, he had found occasion to notice the 
 genuine amusability of the French. Scarcely 
 ever had he made one of an English party of 
 pleasure, without being annoyed at the indiffer- 
 ence or scorn, real or pretended, of every indi- 
 vidual present. Nothing was good enough for 
 them, — nothing worth attending to ; and while 
 grumbling so loudly at their folly in being 
 decoyed into " such a failure," how was it 
 possible for others to know whether they were 
 amused or not ? — He had now the satisfaction 
 of being with indulgent auditors, — gratified 
 spectators, — genial spirits. —
 
 138 greville; or, 
 
 '* I hope you admire my handsome cousin ?" 
 — inquired Madame de Rostanges of Lord Gre- 
 ville, on seeing his glass fixed upon the box of 
 the Duchesse de St. Pierre. 
 
 " Strikingly beautiful V was his reply, 
 
 '' And as charming as she is beautiful," added 
 Madame de Rostanges. " Claire is the best of 
 wives and mothers, though one of the gayest and 
 mo§t popular beauties of the day. You must 
 go to her soirees. — Her society differs entirely 
 from ours ; — her society is that of the pure 
 Faubourg." 
 
 " You forget that Lord Greville understands 
 nothing at present of our conventional phrases," 
 remonstrated Mademoiselle de Nangis. " How 
 is he to guess what you mean by the pure 
 Faubourg ?" 
 
 " Experience will tell him," added her sister, 
 turning round to make sure that the Marquis 
 de Rostanges was no longer in the box, " that 
 the pure Faubourg consists of the ultra Carlists, 
 — the families who remain unshaken in their 
 allegiance to the elder branch of the Bour- 
 bons."
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 139 
 
 "Among whom, then, the family of Ros- 
 tanges is not included ?" — said Lord Greville. 
 
 '' My husband is an adherent of the reigning 
 family," replied the Marquise, blushing. *' My 
 own family and that of the late Marquis de 
 Rostanges, entertain different principles; but 
 my husband has retired from public life, and is 
 so moderate in the expression of his political 
 opinions, that no family breach has ensued." 
 
 ** I fancied," said Lord Greville,'* that a con- 
 siderable fusion of parties had taken place in 
 Paris?" 
 
 " The lapse of ten years has of course done 
 something to modify the animosities created by 
 the revolution of 1830," rephed Madame de Ros- 
 tanges. **Many of the most violent partisans 
 of the elder branch have become dispirited by 
 the hopelessness of their cause ; many have been 
 won over by the virtues of the royal family ; and 
 many more are recalled by the exigencies of their 
 own to the recollection that they are Frangais 
 avant tout ; — that it is their duty to support the 
 throne, — quand merrier 
 
 " Many, however, still remain unwavering in
 
 140 greville; or, 
 
 their fidelity to Henri de Bourdeaux," added 
 Eugenie. " The most eminent of our Carlist 
 families are resident in Austria or Italy ; 
 but we have a few among us who desert 
 neither their country nor their cause ; — some, 
 faithful as a matter of affection ; — some, as a 
 matter of hon ton. No one," she continued, 
 turning with a smile towards Greville, '« can be 
 really fashionable who is not of the pure Fau- 
 hourg, — and being of the pure Faubourg implies 
 pure Carlism." 
 
 Greville smiled at the gay earnestness with 
 which she expounded her text. But his atten- 
 tion was at that moment arrested by the un- 
 welcome discovery that, in a box immediately 
 opposite, though on a higher tier, sat Lord St. 
 George, Frederick Massingberd, and two other 
 English dandies, whose faces were familiar to 
 him though their names were unknown. The 
 lorgnettes of all four were insolently fixed upon 
 the Marchioness de Rostanges and her sister ; 
 and the colour rushed to Lord Greville's temples 
 as he saw at a glance not only that he was un- 
 mercifully quizzed by the four dandies, but that
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 141 
 
 his fail* companions were even more relentlessly 
 handled. It is not till he finds some woman 
 interesting to his feelings fall under the lash of 
 such a coterie, that a man becomes duly sensi- 
 tive to the profanation induced by their licen- 
 tiousness. If looks could kill, the laughing, 
 sneering Massingberd would unquestionably 
 have fallen a victim to those launched at him by 
 Lord Greville ! — 
 
 Fortunately, the rising of the curtain put an 
 end to their mute dialoo^ue ; and durinsf the 
 
 CD ■' O 
 
 ensuing entr'acte, such a succession of visitors 
 presented themselves to pay their compliments 
 to Madame de Rostanges, that Greville felt 
 bound to vacate his seat in their favour and take 
 a turn in i\\e foyer. For a moment, he entered 
 the box of the Duchesse de St. Pierre ; with the 
 view of establishing himself as an acquaintance 
 of the cousin of Sophie and Eugenie, but with 
 the unlooked-for consequence of exciting the 
 jealous envy of the unholy inquisition of English 
 dandies. 
 
 " Where the deuce did you pick up that 
 lovely creature?" — demanded Fred Massing-
 
 142 greville; or, 
 
 herd, when, at the close of the opera, they met 
 at Tortoni's. — 
 
 " That lovely creature was the lady of the 
 brown Noah's-ark," replied Greville, his own 
 thoughts engrossed by Madame de Rostanges. 
 
 " I don't mean those stupid people ! — I saw 
 you domesticated with them, and pitied your 
 infatuation. — / allude to the lovely woman with 
 whom Noailles was sitting when you entered her 
 boi."— 
 
 *' The Duchesse de St. Pierre ; — by birth a 
 Rostanges/' replied Greville. 
 
 " Nee Mademoiselle de Rostanges, eh ? — I 
 never should have guessed it! — However, she 
 has thrown off the family quizzicality, as in duty 
 bound. I never saw a more exquisite soul. St. 
 George was citing Madame de St. Pierre to me 
 yesterday as one of the lionnes most in vogue." 
 
 *' Literary, then ?" — 
 
 '' What ?" — reiterated Massingberd, with an 
 air of as much loathing as if he had heard the 
 lady of his thoughts accused of theft or murder. 
 
 " I thought you called her a lioness ?" — 
 
 " I called her a lionne, which implies a very
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 143 
 
 difiPerent species of animal. A lionne is a woman 
 of fashion of the most pre-eminent kind, just as 
 a lion is an ultra dandy." 
 
 " An epithet of derision, then ?" 
 
 " Not more so than exquisite or exclusive 
 among ourselves. It depends on the person to 
 whom it is applied, and hy whom." 
 
 '' When you called the Duchesse de St. Pierre 
 a lionne^ for instance ?" said Greville, turning 
 towards Lord St. George. 
 
 " I intended to point her out to admiration. 
 Every set and coterie here has its lions and 
 lionnes," said Lord St. George, as if supplying 
 valuable information to a new comer ; " though 
 all swear that they exist only in some other. 
 The name had its rise among the rich fashion- 
 ables of the Chaussee d'Autin; where a little 
 knot of the prettiest women of the day, distin- 
 guished by their dress, equipage, fetes, and flir- 
 tations, were signalized as Les Lionnes. Either les 
 lionnes themselves, or the world in general, soon 
 discovered that the Faubourg, too, had its lionnes. 
 It became the pet name, the cant phrase of 
 society. At the club, one talks of Monsieur un
 
 144 greville; or, 
 
 tel as * le lion de Madame une telle.^ Moreover, 
 les lionnes introduce all the new fashions, — have 
 customs, manners, and a costume of their own. 
 I wont tell you all we say about them, — for you 
 are inexperienced enough in such matters to 
 repeat it to one of the leaders of the class ; or to 
 confound les lionnes with animals more igno- 
 miniously named, and not to be named to ears 
 polite." 
 
 " I seldom err through much talking," replied 
 Greville, carelessly. 
 
 " Jusqu'icil — But how can we guess into what 
 excesses you may fall in your new character ?" 
 cried Massingberd. '' I swear I did not know 
 you to-night, when you were hanging over the 
 chair of that demure little Madame de Ros- 
 tanges ; — you, who at Malta swore you were too 
 shy to be presented to Lady Harriet Wilscourt, 
 — too shy to ride with her daughters, — too shy 
 to dance, — too shy to flirt, — too shy to do any- 
 thing that becomes a Christianly young lord, — 
 especially if rich and unmarried !" 
 
 " Well !--I still plead guilty.— I dislike balls, 
 and hate the society of strangers."
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 145 
 
 " The deuce you do ! And how long, then, 
 my dear Greville, have these Rostanges people 
 been your intimate friends ?" — inquired Lord St. 
 George. 
 
 " Precisely as long as I have known them," 
 replied the Earl. " Accident sometimes ripens 
 an intimacy more than years of acquaintance. 
 I had an opportunity of serving them, — they are 
 grateful, — we like each other." — 
 
 " Et cest une affaire faite ! — Why, a roue of 
 half a dozen years' London and Paris experience 
 could not have managed matters better," cried 
 Lord St. George. 
 
 '' After all, Grev, your mother is deuced right 
 to keep so sharp a look out after you," said 
 Massingberd, commencing a second Plombireres. 
 '* You are a sly dog ! If you had been of age at 
 one-and-twentj^ like myself and other nobodies, 
 there would not have been an acre of your 
 estate, or a scruple of your heart extant by this 
 time !" 
 
 " A scruple of conscience, perhaps you 
 mean ?" — 
 
 «* No — I spoke literally, — and will say penny- 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 greville; or, 
 
 weight, since I must speak by measure. One 
 word more, however, on the subject. — Take 
 notice, that I look upon you as a lost man, and 
 shall henceforth make out my time at Paris in 
 happy independence. But in the mean time, let 
 us understand each other. How much of this 
 new liaison of yours is to be known at the Hotel 
 Bristol ?"— 
 
 " All, and everything. My mother will spend 
 a fortnight in Paris. I expect that the greater 
 part of her enjoyment here will be derived from 
 the society of the Hotel de Rostanges." 
 
 " When Lady Greville hears as much, I sus- 
 pect her fortnight will be shortened to a week !" 
 — was Fred Massingberd's muttered reply. *' If 
 she would but carry off Julia and Cobham, 
 I should say ' bon voyage f — Well ! — I suppose 
 they will all be here in a day or two, to bury us 
 under a wet blanket ! — En attendant, mon cher, 
 amusons nous Men /" —
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 147 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 On ne s'imagine pas combien il faut d'esprit pour ne pas 
 6tre ridicule. 
 
 Diderot. 
 
 Whoever chances to arrive in Paris at the 
 commencement of the month of May, or in 
 London at the beginning of the month of July, 
 is pretty sure to be informed by the first friend 
 he accosts, that he is come too late ; — that the 
 season is over, — that everybody is gone, — that 
 there have been charming balls for the last three 
 months, but that there will be no more ; — that 
 the town is getting thin, empty, dull, stale, flat, 
 and unprofitable. 
 
 Yet those most experienced in the pleasures 
 h2
 
 148 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 of both capitals are aware that '' then comes in 
 the sweet o' the year." In the first place, it is 
 the height of summer in the several climates ; 
 and where is summer otherwise than delight- 
 ful ? — In the next, it is the sober and the 
 aged only who have been eager to depart into 
 the country. All that is young and gay re- 
 mains, upholding the banner of Pleasure so long 
 as ^a single breeze remains to agitate its silken 
 drapery. 
 
 In Paris, above all, this is unquestionable. If 
 a foreigner desire to see the city in its fullest 
 attraction, let him arrive there on the first of 
 May, — on the fete-day of Louis Philippe, — 
 when the population, pouring forth amid the 
 lilac-bushes of the Tuileries, mingles its cheers 
 with the blaze and uproar of fireworks, and the 
 choral song of a gay orchestra ; and whether his 
 political principles lead him to the brilliant 
 saloons of the palace, where the last court held 
 for the season congregates the fairest faces in 
 France if not the most illustrious designations, 
 or to the throng disporting along the gaily 
 illuminated avenues of the Champs Elysees, he
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 149 
 
 will admit that Paris is the city of merry hearts 
 and ingratiating smiles ; and that the month of 
 May is never more auspiciously ushered in, than 
 amid the silver fountains and blooming groves 
 of the Parisian gardens. 
 
 Flowers in profusion greet him in every street ; 
 and the airy summer-costume so readily adopted 
 by the French on the first gleam of sunshine, 
 serves to refresh and cheer the eye after the 
 prolonged dreariness of winter. Hundreds of 
 young and pretty women glancing by in open 
 carriages, pausing perhaps at the flower-market 
 of the Madeleine, on their way to their daily 
 drive in the Champs Elysees, excite his interest. 
 It is yet too early in the season for the imperfect 
 shade and unwatered roads of the Bois de 
 Boulogne. Tlie gay world, more concentrated 
 in its haunts, remains ostensible to eyes profane; 
 and though the crowded halls of the Carnival, 
 royal, ministerial, and diplomatic, are at an end, 
 there are the intimate reunions of the Faubourg, 
 — the charming matinees musicales of amateurs, 
 and the dejeuners of the English and Austrian 
 ambassadresses, not to mention those of that
 
 150 greville; or, 
 
 golden sovereign of the ambassadresses' royal 
 and imperial master — Rothschild, the Great. 
 
 Races in the Champs de Mars, — races at Chan- 
 tilly, — at Versailles, — if they do not, like those of 
 Epsom and Ascot, transfer fortunes from pocket 
 to pocket, serve at least to assemble the grand 
 monde, — the heau monde^ — the world which is 
 always best worth looking at, if not best worth 
 listening to ; and, later still, the amphitheatre of 
 Franconi in the Champs Elysees, affords a 
 lounge in the course of the evening drive, as a 
 point de reunion for such as wish to find them- 
 selves together. 
 
 For those who neither ride nor drive, there 
 are still the shady gardens of the Tuileries, 
 wherein to sit and ruminate in the midst of a 
 gay and ever- moving spectacle ; enjoying the 
 society of a friend in a dry, warm, cloudless 
 atmosphere, — with green boughs overhead, and 
 cries of joy and merriment around. 
 
 Such a Paris as this is surely preferable to the 
 more crowded city of January, whose ways are 
 dreariness, and whose paths mud ; and though, 
 night after night, the tumultuous ball-rooms of
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 151 
 
 the great world may afford compensation to the 
 mere seeker after fetes, all reasonable beings will 
 miss in the brilliant Paris of the carnival, those 
 sunshiny hours of universal enjoyment, when 
 the animated metropolis seems inspired with im- 
 pulses of happiness and hope. 
 
 Climate is not without its share in all this. 
 It is not to be inferred that those favoured few 
 of the English aristocracy who evince, on arriv- 
 ing in Paris, so keen a sense of enjoyment of its 
 simplest pleasures, are actuated by the mere 
 consciousness of being freer from observation, 
 and emancipated from the pompous restraints of 
 a gorgeous home. The lightness of the soil and 
 atmosphere induce a freer circulation of the 
 blood. The fogs of London, its east wind, its 
 city smother, no longer oppress their lungs and 
 consequently their spirits. The sky is blue 
 above, — the earth dry below, — the sun bright in 
 the heavens, and reflecting its brightness into 
 the inner recesses of the heart. 
 
 The bosom's lord sits lightly on his throne. 
 
 Prepared to be pleased, even the most pre-
 
 152 greville; or, 
 
 tending of English travellers ceases to be fasti- 
 dious, overbearing, and disagreeable. 
 
 Fred Massingberd himself became somewhat 
 subdued in his impertinence, after a vi^eek's so- 
 journ among those who were neither intimidated 
 nor captivated by his brusqueries. The utmost 
 emotion he had excited was surprise ; and when 
 he discovered that his credit as a Crockfordite 
 went for nothing, either in shop, club, or coterie, 
 that he was required to pay his way in ready 
 money and ready wit, he became reduced to his 
 true level. The bravado of a London man of 
 small fortune, out of London, is precisely the 
 discomfited audacity of a buffoon in a panto- 
 mime; who attempts to astonish the audience 
 with a wonderful leap, and has the trapdoor 
 slammed in his face. 
 
 Not that in Paris, especially in its less exclu- 
 sive clubs, he did not find specimens of la jeune 
 France^ having a cigar or a bet constantly in 
 their mouths, who vied with himself in talking 
 of steeple-chases and opera-dancers, though with 
 less proficiency than their St. James's-Street 
 prototypes. But these were not the rising patri-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 153 
 
 cians of Paris. These were mere pretenders 
 to consequence and fashion. The young asso- 
 ciates of Lord Greville in the salons of the 
 Faubourg St. Germain, if in truth equally dis- 
 solute, were at least well-bred and accomplished. 
 Their slang was not introduced into such circles 
 as those of Madame de Rostanges. However 
 high their stake at whist, or their bets at the 
 Jockey club, however wild their pursuits there 
 or elsewhere, no sooner did they present them- 
 selves in female society than their tone became 
 insensibly refined, their manners deferential, 
 and their conversation animated and polished. 
 Massingberd would gladly have disparaged 
 them. But after calling them *' spooneys" for a 
 day or two, he was forced to admit (oh, universal 
 criterion of merit in the mind of a young En- 
 glishman !) that they had horses which would 
 not disgrace Hyde Park, and rode them with 
 courage and address. 
 
 " But please to remember," remonstrated 
 
 Fred, "most of their stables are furnished from 
 
 London ; — horses, grooms, everything ! — Achille 
 
 de Cerny and Frederic de St. Pierre, for in- 
 
 H 3
 
 154 greville; or, 
 
 stance, have spent their winter at Melton, and 
 their spring in town. Achille, I remember there 
 perfectly, and a devilish good fellow, too ! — I 
 recollect we cleaned him out ! — Scarcely a rap 
 left to take him home ! — We were talking over 
 together the merry nights we spent in Leicester- 
 shire, the other day at Benedict's." 
 
 '^ St. Pierre, too, I recollect at the Travellers. 
 After all, one can't be surprised that they have 
 some gentlemanly men among them, considering 
 the closeness of the intercourse between the 
 two countries," — observed Lord St. George, 
 apologetically. 
 
 Had Greville been present, he might have 
 been tempted to say in spite of the intercourse 
 between the two countries ; so deeply was he 
 disgusted by the bearing adopted towards him 
 by Fred Massingberd and his clique, whenever 
 they met him in company with Monsieur and 
 Madame de Rostanges. The flippant coarse- 
 ness of their irony, he trusted, might pass un- 
 noticed by Eugenie and her sister, who were 
 indifferently skilled in English. But he could 
 scarcely hope that the vulgar significance of
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 155 
 
 their smiles would long escape the attention of 
 the Marquis ; who, though inert and feeble, was 
 essentially a man of the world. 
 
 A certain degree of consciousness, of course, 
 heightened his susceptibility. He felt that he 
 was devoting more of his time than was alto- 
 gether reasonable, to persons so little and so 
 recently known. But then came the usual self- 
 delusion of a man similarly infatuated — that it 
 was not to last -, — that from the moment of Lady 
 Greville's arrival, he should be required to 
 devote himself to his mother ; and that the 
 moment she determined upon returning to 
 England, he should be compelled to bid adieu, 
 a long adieu, perhaps an eternal one, to those 
 in whose society he was beginning to take such 
 unqualified delight. 
 
 Every day found him a visitor to the Hotel 
 de Rostanges. The same pretext that served 
 to excuse him to himself, afforded to others a 
 plea for his assiduities. He was a bird of pas- 
 sage, — he was on the wing, — he had at most a 
 few weeks, perhaps only a few days, to remain 
 in Paris ; he might never return, or returning,
 
 156 greville; or, 
 
 might find the Rostanges' family expatriated, 
 disunited, dead. What more natural than 
 that, under such circumstances, he should profit 
 by the Marquis's entreaties that he would 
 make himself at home under his roof? — The 
 daily convert at his table, offered with equal 
 warmth, was rarely indeed accepted. But every 
 day at two o'clock, every day from the moment 
 Madame de Rostanges' saloon was open to 
 morning visitors, the dark, plain cabriolet of 
 the young English lord was seen to enter the 
 courtyard ; there to remain till the caleche of 
 the Marquise issued forth, an hour before 
 dinner, to convey them to the Champs Elysees 
 or the Bois. 
 
 It was seen, and seen without comment. 
 The St. Pierres, the Chaulieus, the intimates in 
 general of the Rostanges' family, were pleased 
 with so agreeable an accession to their circle. 
 The eminence of Lord Greville's social position 
 had been readily ascertained ; and it has been 
 ever the privilege of the Faubourg to adopt into 
 its coterie the really distinguished foreign visitants 
 of Paris, leaving the travelling horde of unde-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 157 
 
 sirables to scramble into more accessible and 
 more showy society. In his own person, too, 
 Greville was thoroughly acceptable. Instinc- 
 tive good breeding and cultivation of mind are 
 no mean enhancements to aristocratic distinc- 
 tion. But he possessed attractions more rare or 
 newer to the Faubourg. His shyness once 
 overcome, he was an admirable raconteur ; and 
 Eugenie and her sister were never weary of 
 listening to his descriptions of Oriental scenery, 
 or piquant sketches of the adventures of his 
 travels and voyages. — Greville had done more 
 in Egypt than shoot ibises, — more in Greece, 
 than indite sonnets to the maid of Athens. 
 He had visited the finest countries in the world 
 with a freshness of heart and eye that rendered 
 all his perceptions doubly vivid, and imparted 
 peculiar originality to his reminiscences. It was 
 difficult, in short, to be more amusing than 
 Greville, when, unshackled by the presence of 
 strangers, he talked out. Incited by the lively 
 repartees of Mademoiselle de Nangis, he would 
 indulge in a thousand sportive hypotheses, based 
 upon those mysterious relics of the ancient
 
 158 greville; or, 
 
 world which had passed under his investigation. 
 And while he thus diverged 
 
 From grave to gay, from lively to severe, 
 
 the two sisters, after the fashion of the gentle 
 lady captivated by the hairbreadth 'scapes and 
 monstrous adventures of the Moor, did " seriously 
 incline" to prefer the society of one whose con- 
 versational powers were so much more varied 
 than the phrases d^usage of the best causeurs of 
 their coterie. 
 
 Once established in their set, he soon became 
 the friend of their friends. All were eager to 
 extend their hospitalities to the popular Lord 
 Greville. 
 
 ^•' Invited to the Princesse de Moutfaucon's 
 dejeuner — to the Russian Ambassadress's morn- 
 ing concert — to the Duchesse de Monthemont's 
 soirees dansantes f — cried Lord St. George, cast- 
 ing his eyes over the billets d^nvitation, lying 
 on Greville's table. " Upon my soul, Greville, 
 for a shy fellow (as you say you are) you 
 manage to get on wonderfully ! — Why, these are 
 the fixed stars of the Faubourg ! — I flatter my-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 159 
 
 self I Stand pretty well in Paris. I flatter my- 
 self I am pretty well received at the embassy, 
 and on a tolerably good footing with Orleans 
 and Nemours. But I never so much as saw the 
 interior of qne of those Faubourg houses !" — 
 
 " You have perhaps assigned the reason," said 
 Greville, v/illing to spare his self-love, << in your 
 intimacy with the Princes." 
 
 " No, no — my dear fellow. Many men 
 of the Faubourg have been drawn into an ac- 
 quaintance with the Duke of Orleans, through 
 the interests of the Turf. The Jockey Club, 
 like misery, makes a man acquainted with 
 strange bedfellows.. No ! — it is not politics that 
 have caused my ostracism ; for, sooth to say, I 
 never was at the trouble of setting foot in the 
 Tuileries." 
 
 " Perhaps equally you avoided the trouble of 
 seeking an introduction to the Carlist circles ? 
 They are not people to thrust their civilities 
 upon a stranger. Their habits of life are simple, 
 — their fetes unostentatious ; and unless certain 
 that foreigners really desire to be acquainted 
 with them, and to accept their hospitalities in 
 the same frank spirit they are offered, would
 
 160 greville; or, 
 
 rather not see fussy, sneering Englishwomen, or 
 cold supercilious Englishmen, encumbering the 
 doorways of their salons.^^ 
 
 " / am never likely to encumber their door- 
 ways !" cried Lord St. George, reddening. — ** I 
 hate all that sort of thing. — Twopenny whist, 
 (the everlasting French game, too !) eau sucree 
 and a couple of quinquets, — do not enter into my 
 conceptions of amusement I — Ten to one rather 
 stick to my club !'* — 
 
 " There ! — you have exemplified my meaning 
 at once. The old French society is afraid of 
 inviting us, because they know we don't like 
 modest soirees, and would rather stick to our 
 club. You have completely justified them. 
 They measure our desires by the splendid hos- 
 pitalities of our embassy, where everything is 
 conducted on a scale which three of their for- 
 tunes united could not compass ; and which, 
 even if they could, would be incompatible with 
 the general simplicity of their modes of life." 
 
 " Simplicity ! — shabbiness, you mean !" cried 
 St. George. " The French are naturally ad- 
 dicted to paltry pitiful ways. They talk about 
 the excellent arrangement of our establishments,
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 161 
 
 and the admirable order of our household ser- 
 vice. By Jove ! a Monsieur le Comte would 
 die of fright at a single day's expenses of one of 
 our steward's rooms, servants' halls, or hunt- 
 ing stables !" 
 
 " And well he might, — since it would pro- 
 bably include his quarter's income !" — replied 
 Greville, seriously. ** That which you call 
 shabbiness, I call order. The French are pru- 
 dent people ; they seldom run out. It is rare, 
 I find, for one of their great families to be 
 in embarrassed circumstances. — I will not ask 
 you to look at home." 
 
 " They cant run out if they would," sneered 
 Lord St. George. — "Credit is unknown in Paris; 
 and how can people be ruined who are required 
 to pay ready money ?" — 
 
 '* You are offering an unanswerable argument 
 in favour of short payments/' cried Greville, 
 laughing. '• However, I must still maintain 
 
 DO ' 
 
 that the French possess more than ourselves a 
 tendency to regulate their expenses by their 
 means. Their fortunes are inconsiderable com- 
 pared with those of England; — yet, the pru-
 
 162 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 dence of their domestic arrangements enables 
 them to do twice as much with their money." 
 
 *' They are not eaten out of house and home, 
 I admit, by a pack of useless servants. They 
 don't keep a hall full of powdered footmen for 
 mere show. They have only the men they re- 
 quire, each of whom costs them, from first to 
 last, fifty pounds a year, — the mere wages of 
 an , English butler," observed St. George. 
 " But then these brutes are kept in the 
 rough, in a way that no English fellow would 
 support." 
 
 " They at least do not appear dissatis- 
 fied What attached servants ! — Admire the 
 
 length of time they remain in families, and with 
 what respectful affection their duty is performed ! 
 The Marquis de Rostanges has barely four 
 thousand a year, and lives within his fortune. 
 Yet I declare to you I never saw an English 
 interieur more unexceptionable." 
 
 ^' I dare say he takes care that everything 
 shall be tolerably well got up for you /" — ob- 
 served St. George, with a significant smile. 
 
 *' On the contrary, the great charm of the
 
 A SEASOX IN PARIS. 163 
 
 thing consists in the fact that nothing is got up. 
 A French house does not admit of the super- 
 ficial ostentation practised in England. Every- 
 thing passes under one's eyes, — everything is 
 canvassed. — It is not an article of good breed- 
 ing, as with us, to be ignorant of all that is going 
 on in your establishment." 
 
 '' Thank Heaven, we liave better things to 
 amuse us than such dirty details !" exclaimed 
 St. George, warming. '^ Our women boast ac- 
 complishments that afford occupation for their 
 time ; our men, their political pursuits, which — " 
 
 ** Do not altogether detach us from the stable, 
 or prevent our better halves from wasting their 
 mornings in shopping, or gossiping with their 
 attendants," replied Greville. 
 
 " With respect to our countrywomen, at 
 least," observed Lord St. George, '^it behoves 
 us to speak feelingly. An Englishwoman with 
 her half dozen, dozen, or dozen and a half of 
 children, passes her best days as a nurse, and 
 consequently as the companion of nurses. Two 
 or three olive branches at the utmost, form the 
 stint here, where the property must be equally
 
 164 greville; or, 
 
 divided ; and your Frenchwoman, married at 
 seventeen, turns over her two little ugly mon- 
 keys to the care of a honne, and returns at 
 twenty, unencumbered, to the pleasures of 
 society." 
 
 " I have reason, nevertheless, to believe them 
 tender and attentive mothers," remonstrated 
 Greville, angrily. 
 
 "Because the meagreness of their establish- 
 ments compels them to have their children 
 always in the way !" — retorted St. George, with 
 a smile. *' At Greville Abbey, at least, Madame 
 la Comtesse will acquire habits more suitable !" — 
 
 " Of whom, and what, are you talking ?" — 
 cried Lord Greville, in utter amazement. 
 
 " Of Eugenie, Countess of Greville, — with 
 whom, I trust, my friend Lady Greville may be 
 as much enchanted as yourself," replied St 
 George, settling his cravat at the glass. 
 
 " I have no doubt my mother will be en- 
 chanted with Mademoiselle de Nangis," replied 
 Lord Greville, gravely ; " because an unaffected, 
 well-bred person rarely fails to please. But you 
 will shortly have an opportunity of judging.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 165 
 
 My mother writes me word," he continued, 
 addressing Massingberd, who had just entered 
 the room and thrown himself into a corner of 
 the sofa, — " that, having been detained all this 
 time at Milan, by the illness of Sir James 
 Cobham " 
 
 " You don't mean to say that Lady Greville 
 has been staying out of compliment to Cobham's 
 infernal gout ?" — interrupted Fred, without 
 ceremony. 
 
 '' Lady Cobham was so nervous at the idea 
 of remaining alone with the invalid, that my 
 mother kindly consented to the delay," replied 
 Greville. 
 
 ^« For which, I trust, you feel duly grateful to 
 Julia and her nervousness!" — cried Massingberd. 
 " Ah Grev, my boy ! — had Lady Greville been 
 established all this time at the Hotel de Bristol, 
 what would have become of the Hotel des 
 Anges, in the Rue St. Dominique ?" — 
 
 '' We should have spent many agreeable 
 days there together," replied the Earl. — '« My 
 first object on my mother's arrival, will be to 
 make her acquainted with two of the most 
 charming women in France."
 
 166 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 " By Heavens ! I hardly know what to make 
 of Grev !" — said Massmgberd to Lord St. 
 George, as they ate their quails, with Seville- 
 orange juice, and drank their Madire sec to- 
 gether, that evening at the club. " I'm afraid 
 it's all up with him ! — He is beginning to have a 
 will of his own — and a cursed foolish one it 
 seems to be !" — 
 
 '« Ay, ay ! — the governante is still a hundred 
 leagues off!'' replied Lord St. George. '' Let 
 us see how far he will venture, when mamma 
 comes with her imperturbable face and indis- 
 putable authority! — If Lady Greville leave 
 him here eight-and-forty hours after her arrival, 
 I'm mistaken in my woman !" — 
 
 " I'm mistaken in my man, if he submit to be 
 bullied much longer !" — answered Fred, with a 
 knowing nod. 
 
 '' He never was bullied, — and that consti- 
 tuted the real charm of the business ; — he was 
 cajoled !" cried St. George, " Fathers are 
 sometimes asses enough to bully their sons, — 
 mothers, never. Women have a natural ten- 
 dency to humbug. They begin by flummering 
 their lovers, — their husbands, — and end by
 
 A SEASON IX PARIS. 167 
 
 flummering their sons. — A fit of hysterics does 
 the business." 
 
 '• I should Hke to see my mother in a fit of 
 hysterics I" — cried the incorrigible Fred, swal- 
 lowing a sip of curacoa. 
 
 " Your governor has the reins in his 
 hands/' replied his companion; "or, depend 
 upon it, you would have been caline in your 
 turn. As to Greville, you will see him quietly 
 driven out of Paris as you see people walked 
 talkinoc off the sta^e, in a comedy, unconscious 
 that they are led from the field." 
 
 " The Rue St. Dominique has two to one 
 aorainst her, remember !" cried Fred. " Between 
 the black eyes of the charming brunette, and 
 the dove's eyes of that demure Madame de 
 Rostanges " 
 
 " Greville must have a happy time of it !" 
 interrupted Lord St. George. " And now, 
 when you have done with your rince-bouche, — 
 au Jockei ! I have not had a touch at billiards 
 with you these hundred years !"
 
 168 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 On s'attache par ses bienfaits. C'est une bonte de la 
 nature. II est juste que le bonheur d'aimer soit la recom- 
 pense de bien faire. 
 
 Lord Greville had, indeed, a happy time 
 of it ! — Like most men educated by a woman, 
 he had imbibed a taste for female society 
 beyond that engendered by mere motives of 
 gallantry. Among them was his home — his 
 happiness. Hitherto he had found two draw- 
 backs to his satisfaction ; natural shyness, and 
 the apprehension of being endured in deference 
 to his worldly distinctions. But at the Hotel 
 de Rostanges, he was received from the first
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 169 
 
 with a frankness that rendered it impossible to 
 be shy; and the feeling once surmounted, re- 
 served persons become doubly attached to those 
 who have enabled them to overcome their 
 infirmity. As to deference conceded to his 
 dignities, from the general ignorance of Eugenie 
 and her sister concerning England and its 
 society, he saw that they were utterly incapable 
 of comprehending the position of a wealthy 
 English peer. The Marquis de Kostanges, 
 with his moderate estate, modest income, and 
 total absence of privilege, evidently looked upon 
 him as an equal, but nothing more. 
 
 He was happy, then, because welcomed as a 
 friend and brother by those towards whom, in an 
 hour of danjjer, he had acted a friend and 
 brother's part, and whom he felt to be dear 
 to him as his life. Mild, gentle, simple in 
 her tastes, graceful in her demeanour, — he 
 looked upon Madame de Rostanges as a more 
 refined reflection of his mother — his mother 
 as she might have been at eighteen, before the 
 cares and turmoil of the world had withered the 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 greville; or, 
 
 smile upon her cheek, or checked the warm im- 
 pulses of her heart. 
 
 From Greville, such a comparison was, in- 
 deed, a token of affection ; for his mother was 
 still his idol. He had not yet discovered the im- 
 penetrability of her soul ; he did not yet suspect 
 the absolutism of her character. Convinced that 
 he was dearer to her than the whole universe, 
 his affection was proportionate. 
 
 No one but himself, however, would have 
 detected any likeness between the egotist of 
 Greville Abbey, and the simple-hearted Ma- 
 dame de Rostanges. Sophie was one of those 
 gentle creatures the even tenour of whose days 
 had served to repress every deeper energy, and 
 leave undeveloped every warmer emotion. The 
 routine of her convent life, — a routine of duties 
 fulfilled in uneventful tranquillity, — had left 
 her nothing to desire, and nothing to regret. 
 Throughout her girlhood, she had looked for- 
 ward without anxiety and without joy, to the 
 accomplishment of her destinies. The events 
 which followed, were supported with the same
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 171 
 
 tranquil equanimity. She was happy as the 
 wife of the amiable valetudinarian, so studious 
 of her comfort, and so kind a brother to her 
 dear Eugenie ; — contented, cheerful, grateful, — 
 unconscious of the existence of domestic happi- 
 ness more vivid or more varied than her own. 
 
 The character of Mademoiselle de Nangis, 
 on the other hand, was cast in a deeper mould. 
 Spirited, high-minded, a girl in petulance, a 
 woman in strength of feeling, — the same im- 
 patience of unmeaning restraints which had 
 rendered Eugenie a turbulent inmate of the 
 convent, made her a somewhat unpopular mem- 
 ber of the insipid coteries of the Faubourg. 
 She was too candid in her caprices, as well as 
 too decided in her opinions, for the heau ideal 
 of a demoiselle Franfaise de bonne maisoji, which 
 implies an automaton with downcast eyes, that 
 curtsies low when spoken to, and awaits without 
 the demonstration of an idea or a sentiment 
 the fortunate individual designated by those in 
 authority over it, to endow it with " a local 
 habitation and a name," — a diamond necklace, 
 taste, reason, and sensibility. 
 I 2
 
 172 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 From the harshness or coldness often cha- 
 racteristic of a mind powerfully organized, 
 Eugenie de Nangis was secured by the 
 vivacity of her national character. English 
 people of superior abilities are apt to con- 
 centrate themselves into a stern gravity wliich, 
 with the uninformed, passes for dulness. The 
 French, even the most reflective, reflect aloud. 
 Thek meditative powers are vocable. If, ac- 
 cording to our code, " happiness is born a 
 twin," philosophy has with them a birth equally 
 co-partite. A superior man does not imply, in 
 France, a man too clever for ordinary pur- 
 poses, who distinguishes himself by got up 
 speeches in parliament, or articles in some 
 quarterly review; but one who is ever ready to 
 enlighten his associates by the exercise of his 
 colloquial powers, — one who does not hold his 
 ideas too sacred to be communicated, — one who 
 is prompt to aid in the circulation of the cur- 
 rent coin of wisdom, without resting satisfied 
 that in his sullen treasury lie hoarded the 
 ingots of knowledge. It means a man who is 
 a charming companion; a man who talks as
 
 A SEASON IN PAHIS. 173 
 
 Montaigne writes; a man of whose fluent, easy 
 philosophy one is never weary. 
 
 This readiness of speech is perhaps attri- 
 butable to an irritability of temperament rare 
 in our phlegmatic clime. No one could watch 
 the mutable expression of the beautiful eyes of 
 Eugenie de Nangis, or the rapid variations of 
 her complexion, without discerning that she 
 felt earnestly and thought rapidly; that her 
 sensibility was at least as keen as her mtel- 
 ligence. Still less could a person versed in the 
 mysteries of the female character survey such 
 demonstrations, without feeling that, for her own 
 happiness and the happiness of others, a being 
 thus endowed should have been trained under 
 a very different system from the superficial 
 modes of French education ; — that a mind thus 
 ororanized should have been stored with in- 
 formation, not suffered to grow feeble and in- 
 flated by inaction, — in order that, through 
 knowledge of others, it might attain knowledge 
 of itself. 
 
 At present, Eugenie's best safeguard consisted 
 in the strongly developed religious feelings
 
 174 GREVILLE ; Oil, 
 
 derived from her early habits of life ; and in 
 warm affection for her sister. She would not 
 have uttered a word, or hazarded a movement, 
 likely to annoy her beloved Sophie ; and the 
 Marquis de Rostanges, as the guardian of that 
 beloved sister's happiness, was the object of her 
 sincere regard. The gentle manners and gen- 
 tlemanly views of her brother-in-law, rendered 
 him a companion with whom it was difficult to 
 disagree. If neither eminently witty nor won- 
 derfully wise, he possessed that sixth sense of 
 the French, — the tact which constitutes Vesprit 
 de la conversation; — and by not swimming beyond 
 his depth, by not trying to talk too well, he con- 
 trived to converse decently on all subjects of 
 general interest. 
 
 Eugenie seldom engaged with him in argu- 
 ments developing her graver thoughts or 
 opinions. But his society was agreeable to her ; 
 that is, till now it had always been agreeable. 
 It was not till Lord Greville's arrival, she 
 discovered the tediousness of the thrice-told 
 anecdotes of the courts in which the Mar- 
 quis had bowed away his days, or the insi-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 175 
 
 pidity of the little unmeaning gallantries which 
 garnish the discourse of a highbred Parisian of 
 the old school. 
 
 She was now beginning to look forward to 
 Greville's daily visits as a relief. Greville had 
 something to say beyond a recapitulation of the 
 morning paper, — beyond the elegant triviality 
 of Albert de La Roche Aymar, the most as- 
 siduous among the frequenters of the house, 
 or the vagaries of their wilder friend, the young 
 Prince de Chaulieu ; and even when driven 
 into reserve by the presence of strangers, 
 there was an air of refinement, of distinction, 
 in the English nobleman, imparting grace to 
 his silence. 
 
 " I was in hopes, as you are rather later than 
 usual, that Lady Greville might have arrived?" — 
 observed Madame de Rostanges, as Greville en- 
 tered her drawing room one morning, some ten 
 days after their arrival in Paris. 
 
 " I bring my excuse, if not my apology," 
 answered he, depositing, with an embarrassed 
 air, beside the tapestry frame at which the Mar- 
 quise was working, a bouquet of gardenias, the
 
 176 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 perfume of which already scented the apart- 
 ment. '' Mademoiselle de Nangis and yourself 
 expressed last night a passion for Cape jessa- 
 mines. I have been running the round of all the 
 houquetieres in Paris, — from your favourite, Ma- 
 dame Adde, to Madame Lecarpentier, who, par 
 parenthese, is mine, — and ending with Cels and 
 Noisette, at the extremity of the world, — the 
 Boujevart St. Jacques, — the Rue de I'Enfer, — I 
 know not where ! — Such is the cause of my 
 delay." 
 
 "Eugenie^ ma chhe amie I — come and take 
 your share of these charming gardenias!" — cried 
 Madame de Rostanges, accepting the offering 
 with the ease of a Frenchwoman accustomed to 
 such homage. And she placed one of the flowers 
 in her girdle, while Mademoiselle de Nangis 
 rose from her drawing table beside a window 
 opening into the garden, and advanced to re- 
 ceive her present with a blush at least as guilty 
 as that of Lord Greville. 
 
 " How fresh, — how fragrant !'* — said she, 
 placing two or three in a crystal cup on the 
 chimney piece.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 177 
 
 '' But you ought at least to wear one, in 
 gratitude for the trouble taken by Lord 
 Greville," said Madame de Rostanores, thought- 
 lessly overlooking the difference of position 
 between them ; which, according to the Pa- 
 risian code, authorized on her part the ac- 
 ceptance of an act of gallantry forbidden to her 
 sister. 
 
 ^' I never wear flowers of which the odour is 
 so powerful as to offend many," replied Eugenie. 
 " The Marquis, for instance, has a particular 
 dislike to the scent of the gardenia." 
 
 '* But Monsieur de Rostanges will be detained 
 all day at the Chambre des Pairs," said Sophie ; 
 •' and I will take care to have the flowers re- 
 moved before dinner time. Mine will I dare 
 say be faded before we return from our ride in 
 the Bois. We look to you, Monsieur de Gre- 
 vile, to be our escort during the absence of the 
 Marquis," she continued, again addressing the 
 Earl. " The Prince de Chaulieu and Monsieur 
 de La Roche Aymar will join us; but the Mar- 
 quis has so little reliance on their discretion or 
 I 3
 
 178 greville; or, 
 
 my courage, that he begged me not to ride 
 unless you were of the party." 
 
 " He could scarcely doubt my being at your 
 service," said Greville, taking his seat beside 
 her, after examining, en passant, the progress of 
 Mademoiselle de Nangis's drawing since the pre- 
 ceding day. 
 
 '« On the contrary, I had a presentiment last 
 night, when you left us after the opera, that you 
 would find on your return home the friends 
 you are expecting ; and though I secure our 
 ride by their non-appearance, I am almost dis- 
 appointed. I want them to arrive soon," said 
 she, little conjecturing to what extent the pre- 
 sence in Paris of Lady Greville might actuate 
 the movements of her son, — ** not only because 
 I am sure you are growing impatient, but be- 
 cause our society will be shortly dispersed. — 
 On Monday next will be our last f^te of the 
 season." 
 
 ^« The last fete ?" 
 
 *« Have you not received a note from Madame 
 de St. Pierre for your English friend?" — in- 
 quired the Marchioness.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 179 
 
 ** Massingberd has a general invitation, I 
 fancy, to the Duchess's soirees." 
 
 '' But on Monday next it is not one of her 
 mere receptions, — it is not even a little soiree 
 dansante, — it is a ball ; — and a ball in the 
 Faubourg in the month of May, is an event ! 
 I was really in hopes Lady Greville might 
 arrive in time." 
 
 " You do not know my mother," observed 
 Greville, with a smile. " She has not been in a 
 ball room these ten years. But I have some 
 English friends of her party who would be 
 enchanted ; and if Madame de St. Pierre will 
 extend her kindness to Massingberd's sister, 
 Lady Cobham, her fete will acquire a very 
 pretty woman instead of a sober dowager !" 
 
 " Ah ! the lady, then, with whom you 
 were travelling in Italy, is the pretty Anglaise 
 with fair ringlets, whom we used to admire at 
 Rome !" cried Madame de Rostanges. " Do 
 you remember her, dear Eugenie? — that fair, 
 delicate creature !" 
 
 " I recollect a Lady Cobham at Rome," re- 
 plied Mademoiselle de Nangis, who, too cour-
 
 180 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 teoustofind fault with afriend and countrywoman 
 of Greville, could see nothing to admire in the 
 unmeaning sister of Massingberd. — " I will take 
 care that Madame de St. Pierre sends a card to 
 the Place Vendome, to wait her arrival." 
 
 " It will be one of the most brilliant balls of 
 the year," said Madame de Rostanges, leaning 
 back a moment from her work, as if to refresh 
 herself with the fragrance of her gardenia and 
 the anticipation of a fete ; — ^^ fauhourg^ even to 
 rigorism. The St. Pierre family, you know, are 
 at the head of the Carlist set ; and, but for our 
 family connexion, Claire would scarcely be 
 allowed to remain on terms of intimacy with 
 such recreants as ourselves." 
 
 " But surely this vehement political excite- 
 ment is subsiding?" — demanded Greville. 
 
 *' Every year, two or three of our great 
 families are won round to the court," replied 
 Madame de Rostanojes : '* either throuojh horror 
 of some regicide attempt, or by some family 
 alliance, or the necessity of furthering the career 
 of their offspring. A few of the very rich and 
 independent, such as the Chaulieus, — a few of
 
 A SEASON IN PAIIIS. l81 
 
 those having heavy obligations to the abdicated 
 branch, such as the house of St. Pierre, — still 
 remain true to the cause, or true to their pre- 
 judices. I have heard the Princesse de Chaulieu, 
 for instance, assert a thousand times that were 
 Henri Cinq raised to the throne by the aid of 
 the parties now in power, so as to necessitate 
 his adoption o^ parvenu ministers and liberalized 
 opinions, she would never set foot at court. I 
 suspect," she added with a smile, '' that such an 
 event as the return of the elder Bourbons from 
 exile, would cause as much embarrassment to 
 their adherents, as the return from the grave of 
 some lamented wife or husband after ten years' 
 interment." 
 
 '^ The Carlists have insensibly adopted man- 
 ners and habits ill accordant with the demands 
 of a court," observed Mademoiselle de Nangis, 
 gravely. 
 
 *' Eufjenie is one of those who choose to at- 
 tribute the sans fa^on habits of the Faubourg 
 to want of contact with those thrones and 
 dominions to which every one is obliged to bow 
 the knee," cried Sophie. " Monsieur de Ros-
 
 182 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 tanges, and a few others of our society acci- 
 dentally connected with the court, retain their 
 scrupulous politeness. But you must surely 
 have noticed," she continued, turning towards 
 Lord Greville, *' the Anglicized deportment of 
 our young men, compared with the ceremoni- 
 ousness of the hureaucratie and the Chaussee 
 d' Antin ? — The trois saluts d'usage are abolished, 
 except at the Tuileries and in the diplomatic 
 circles.-' 
 
 " You are more English in the Faubourg," 
 replied Greville, replying with a smile to her 
 smiling interrogation. " But I am not disposed 
 to compliment you on the change. In France, 
 the manners of the ancien regime appear to 
 me, in place and characteristic. You have 
 adopted our manners, as you have our trial by 
 jury, in the form, not in the spirit. Our 
 contempt of ceremony is not a thing for your 
 climate. Like other exotics, colour and fragrance 
 are wanting." 
 
 " The ceremoniousness of the official circles here 
 is simply the result of inequality of condition," 
 interposed Eugenie. " We of the Faubourg set
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 183 
 
 Stand on an equal footing, connected among 
 ourselves, so that a perpetual display of our 
 gentility and knowledge of the forms of good 
 company becomes superfluous.*' 
 
 '* Lord Greville will shortly have an op- 
 portunity of judging for himself," added the 
 Marchioness ; " Madame de St. Pierre's ball on 
 Monday being followed on Tuesday by a break- 
 fast at the Ambassade d'Angleterre ; where, as 
 in every foreign circle, all parties, sects, and 
 opinions, are of necessity admitted." 
 
 An announcement that their horses were in 
 waiting, suspended the discussion; and a few 
 minutes afterwards, Greville, as he lifted Ma- 
 dame de Rostanges to her saddle, had the grati- 
 fication of perceiving that the gardenia was 
 transferred to the button-hole of her habit. 
 Albert de La Roche Aymar was already in the 
 act of performing a similar service for Made- 
 moiselle de Nangis ; and as the little party 
 emerged from the Rue de Bourgogne to take its 
 way along the Cours la Reine towards the Bois 
 de Boulogne, they found the Prince de Chaulieu 
 and his sister Sidonie awaiting them. The
 
 184 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 little group of equestrians was compelled to 
 break into couples, when, after entering the 
 wood by the Porte Dauphine, they proceeded, 
 chatting and laughing, along one of the narrow 
 evergreen alleys of firs and pine-trees ; the 
 avenue of Longchamps not yet affording suffi- 
 cient shade. 
 
 " A fortnight hence, and the acacias will be 
 in full beauty!" — observed Eugenie, by way of 
 commencing a conversation with Greville, whom 
 accident had attached to her side in the division 
 of the party. " The spring in Paris resembles 
 those of America. We burst at once into foliajje 
 and blossom. As yet, we have only the sweet- 
 ness of the violets and wild cherry-trees, and 
 the bloom of the blackthorn, to recommend the 
 Bois. Still, it is more agreeable than when, 
 though in fuller foliage, the depth of sand 
 renders it in a dry summer — " 
 
 She paused, — for she found that she was talk- 
 ing to a disregardful ear. A moment after- 
 wards, the horse of Madame de Rostanges, 
 excited by the noise of the Prince de Chaulieu 
 with whom she was riding, began to shew symp-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 185 
 
 toms of restlessness; and Eugenie found her 
 side already deserted. Greville, pressing for- 
 ward among the bushes, laid his hand on the 
 rein of the Marchioness. 
 
 " You forget that you were committed to 
 my charge, by Monsieur de Rostanges !" — said 
 he, by way of excuse to Chaulieu for his inter- 
 ference. 
 
 "It is too true!" said Sophie, addressing 
 the Prince; '* the Marquis is afraid of you, 
 — the Marquis looks upon you as a dreadnought. 
 Go to Eugenie, my dear Prince,— go to Eugenie, 
 who has no fears on horseback, and greater 
 skill as a horsewoman. — I feel myself safer with 
 Lord Greville." 
 
 Chaulieu, with a significant smile, fell back 
 to the side of Mademoiselle de Nangis. 
 
 " See how cavalierly I am dismissed !" — said he, 
 — hoping that the susceptibility of her sex would 
 elicit from Eugenie some comment disadvan- 
 tageous to Lord Greville, if not to the Mar- 
 chioness. 
 
 '« My sister is wise," replied Mademoiselle de 
 Nangis. — *' Lord Greville has been accustomed
 
 186 greville; or, 
 
 from his boyhood to ride with ladies. Most 
 Englishwomen are equestrians. With us, it is a 
 pursuit too lately adopted to be already per- 
 fected. We and our horses require a better 
 education.'* 
 
 ** Mille pardons, Mademoiselle ! — You require 
 a better local T cried Achille de Cerny, who 
 with Lord St. George had just joined the party ; 
 " you want turf, — you want enclosures from 
 carriages, — you want, in short, Hyde Park." 
 
 "The Bois is good enough for me /"cried 
 Chaulieu, vexed at the arrival of another milor 
 upon the scene. " I doubt, mon cher^ whether 
 your Hyde Park boasts such a sky as the blue 
 one over our heads ; — to say nothing of the con- 
 cert of nightingales greeting us yonder from the 
 Judaea trees of the gardens of Auteuil." 
 
 " Nightingales in Hyde Park !" — cried St. 
 George, with one of his ineffable smiles. 
 
 ^' My dear fellow, where have you lived all 
 your life !" — added Cerny, seconding the con- 
 temptuous tone of the English dandy. 
 
 " In Paris, thank Heaven !" replied Chaulieu, 
 coolly. " I am satisfied to import my saddles
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 1.87 
 
 and bridles, without bringing my manners and 
 opinions from the other side the channel." And 
 forthwith, in order to exemplify their excellence, 
 he drew out his etui a cigarre, and by way of 
 rendering himself agreeable to Mademoiselle de 
 Nangis, addressed himself to the enjoyment of 
 « the filthy weed." 
 
 Thus doubly deserted, Eugenie was forced 
 to content herself with the society of Cerny 
 and Lord St. George. She would just as 
 soon have been left to the escort of the grooms, 
 — Anxieties and emotions hitherto unknown, 
 were beginning to impart a painful charm to 
 her solitary reflections ! —
 
 188 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Le tact, c'est le bon gout applique a la conduite : — la 
 bon ton, c'est le bon gout applique un maintien. 
 
 Champfort. 
 
 " No prospect, Mr. Massingberd, of poor 
 dear LadyGreville's return to England !" — sighed 
 the lady of Hill Hall to her spouse, one day, 
 after a morning drive to the Abbey. " Dowdes- 
 well says that her ladyship's letters don't even 
 allude to it. She writes constantly. Not a 
 thing is done at the Abbey, — not a tree pruned, 
 — not a fence renewed, — except by her direc- 
 tions." 
 
 *' Ay, ay ! — ^your friend Lady Greville is like
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 189 
 
 the country's friend — the reformed parliament, 
 too busy by half!" — interrupted old Massingberd. 
 " Over-legislation is as bad as no legislation at 
 all. Not so much as a cow's tail is allowed to 
 grow in its own way at Greville Abbey. As 
 to that overgrown baby, the Earl, take my 
 word for it now he has slipped his leading- 
 strings, the young chap will give a busy time of 
 it to his mother. — I wish you could see what my 
 son Fred's last letter from Paris says of their 
 escapade from Italy, and the capital fun they 
 contrived to have in Paris, previous to the 
 Countess's arrival." 
 
 Mrs. Massingberd wished she could see ; for 
 Frederick's letters were always carefully locked 
 up from her inspection. From those of Lady 
 Cobham, meanwhile, filled with histories of 
 nursery ailments and squabbles between her 
 maid and her nurses, she gathered only that 
 Lady Greville had been most kind in assisting 
 her to nurse Sir James at Milan, through a fit 
 of the gout ; that they were all settled together 
 in the Place Vendome ; that they found Paris 
 hot and disagreeable : and that the nurses were
 
 190 GREYILLE ; OR, 
 
 eager to be oflP. Of the " capital fun," poor 
 Julia either knew not or said not a word. 
 
 Still less did Lady Cobham conjecture the 
 paramount influence exercised by her own 
 pretty face, over the plans of Lady Greville ! 
 Little did she suspect that the good-natured 
 care with which the young Earl had escorted 
 her through the studios of Rome, had de- 
 termined the over-prudent mother to sanction 
 his departure with Frederick Massingberd, and 
 prolong as much as possible the detention of the 
 Cobhams at Milan. 
 
 " You seem strangely interested that Lady 
 Cobham should make her appearance at this ball 
 of the Duchesse de St. Pierre ?" — said Lady Gre- 
 ville, after hearing her son exercise his eloquence 
 to obtain the consent of Sir James. 
 
 " Yes, — I should like her to be there," 
 was Lord Greville's frank reply. *' I shall be 
 proud to shew the Faubourg so pretty a face. 
 Charming as they are, the Parisians have no- 
 thing to compare with Lady Cobham's lovely 
 hair and exquisite delicacy of complexion." 
 
 Vexed to perceive what she conceived to be
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 191 
 
 the infatuation of her son unabated by the 
 month's absence which she had greatly incon- 
 venienced herself to secure. Lady Greville 
 vented her irritation in finding so much fault 
 with poor Julia, that her son felt in gallantry 
 bound to become the champion of a pretty 
 woman thus vehemently attacked. Lady Cob- 
 ham interested his feelings no more than the 
 plaster-nymph which stood supporting a lamp 
 in the room where they were sitting; yet on 
 hearing her unfairly accused, he began to take 
 her part with a degree of warmth that seemed to 
 justify the suspicions of his mother. 
 
 '* I foresaw it all !" — was Lady Greville's excla- 
 mation, when at length he took his hat and im- 
 patiently left the room. *' I was sure that his 
 extreme intimacy with young Massingberd boded 
 no good. At Hugo's age, almost every tie of 
 friendship has its origin in some v/armer impulse. 
 He was always fond of running over to Hill 
 Hall ! — I might have known that there was no 
 great attraction in those tiresome old people; 
 and boy as he was when Julia Massingberd mar- 
 ried, no doubt he was secretly attached to her.
 
 192 greville; or, 
 
 To what mischief may he not be exposed by this 
 unfortunate renewal of the connexion ! — How 
 little could I suppose, when motives of prudence 
 instigated me to tear him away from London 
 and spend the winter at Naples, that I was 
 throwing him into the midst of perils far more 
 terrible. — But it may not yet be too late ! — 
 Lady Cobham must be the most monstrous 
 hypocrite that ever existed, or she could not 
 appear so passionately attached to her children 
 while cherishing a lawless attachment! — It must 
 be my business to prevent an eclair cissement. I 
 will lose sight of Lady Cobham as little as possible 
 during our stay in Paris; — and once in Eng- 
 land, they will settle at Cobham Park, while 
 Hugo remains at the Abbey. As to this 
 ball, much as I dislike entertainments of that 
 description, I will accept the Duchess's in- 
 vitation, rather than leave these two impru- 
 dent young people unrestrained by my pre- 
 sence !" — 
 
 And to the amazement of her son, she per- 
 severed in the intention. 
 
 «' She will certainly be the belle of the ball,"
 
 A SEASON IN PAins. li;3 
 
 mused her ladyship, when, on the eventful 
 evening of the fete, Lady Cobham, coveied 
 with diamonds, in a white satin dress trimmed 
 with a profusion of artificial flowers, entered 
 the room. ^' How richly and elegantly dressed ! 
 — what lustre diamonds impart to die coun- 
 tenance ! " And she scarcely wondered at 
 Lord Greville's desire to exhibit so favourable 
 a specimen of English beauty in that brilliant 
 assemblage. 
 
 The Hotel de St. Pierre, enclosed within a 
 spacious courtyard in the Rue de Varennes, and 
 containing on the ground floor a suite of mag- 
 nificent apartments, was admirably calculated 
 for a fete. To a vestibule full of antique furni- 
 ture of richly-carved ebony, succeeded seveial 
 rooms fitted up in a fantastic style, with old 
 china, paintings, cabinets, and sculpture ; end- 
 ing in a saloon of princely dimensions, the 
 gorgeous gilding of which, intermingled with 
 rich hanojino;s of yellow damask, was liujhted 
 on every side by multitudes of candles in lustres 
 of ormoulu, profusely interspersed with crystal 
 drops. 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 greville; or, 
 
 To this stately chamber, on whose fauteuils 
 and ottomans were crowded all the fair and 
 fashionable of Paris, succeeded a dancing gallery 
 of fine dimensions, opening to illuminated gar- 
 dens; — the parquet being composed of a rich 
 mosaic of foreign woods beautifully inlaid, while 
 the orchestra was half hidden in a fanciful re- 
 cess. In all directions, draperies of the lightest 
 muslin, or arabesques of the most delicate 
 tracery, ornamented the walls. Lights, in- 
 numerable lights, filled up the spaces between. 
 It was, in short, a Parisian mansion in the 
 richest style of modern decoration. 
 
 With the exception of the attaches of the 
 embassy, the Grevilles and Cobhams were the 
 only English present ; and nothing could be 
 more studiously courteous than the mode of their 
 reception. Scarcely, however, had Lady Cob- 
 ham made her appearance in the ball-room, 
 when a murmur of mingled approval and con- 
 demnation greeted the party. 
 
 " What a pretty woman, — but how outrage- 
 ously attired!" cried Albert de La Roche Ay mar, 
 attracted by a new face.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 195 
 
 " Charmante ! — il est dparier que c'est une An- 
 glaise /" cried the Comte de St. Sevron, one of 
 the sommites of the Faubourg. 
 
 '' Plutot une comedienne de province /" retorted 
 Achille de Cerny. " But no ! — she is accom- 
 panied by Lord Greville, — she is accompanied 
 by Masanbert ! — Cest quelqu\ne de la societe.'" 
 " But what a toilette !" remonstrated one of 
 the lionnes most in vogue. 
 
 *' A satin gown in the month of May !" cried 
 another. 
 
 *« Diamonds at this time of the year !" added 
 a third. 
 
 " And artificial flowers at a summer ball !" 
 exclaimed a fourth. 
 
 " Sins of ignorance are always deserving 
 mercy !" — pleaded the Comte de St. Sevron ; 
 *' d^autant plus that this miledi is really a woman 
 of rare loveliness." 
 
 " The more the pity that she should be so 
 horribly fagottee f" murmured a chorus of 
 lionnes. 
 
 There was not leisure, however, for circum- 
 stantial criticism. Waltzing was the order of the 
 k2
 
 196 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 night, for Strauss conducted the orchestra ; and 
 scarcely a single contredanse was allowed to give 
 breathing time between the real business of the 
 ball. 
 
 Lady Cobham, meanwhile, stood leaning on 
 her husband's arm, a I'Anglaise, as near the 
 door as possible, wondering at the rapidity of 
 the valse and the gay aspect of the scene ; and 
 morfe particularly at finding the French ladies, 
 of whose taste and elegance she had heard so 
 much, so miserably underdressed. 
 
 ** Nothing but muslin dresses and natural 
 flowers !"^ — whispered she to Lady Greville, as 
 les Honnes, in their coeffures of roses, pinks, 
 geraniums, Judaea blossoms, or amaryllises. were 
 whirled past them rapidly in the dance, emitting 
 all the fragrance of a moving flower-garden. 
 " Not a single jewel, — not a single ornament !" — 
 
 '* They look like so many school-misses at a 
 dancing-master's ball !" sneered Sir James Cob- 
 ham. " How different from our EnfjUsh women 
 of rank and fashion !" — 
 
 He was about to extend his criticisms to the 
 male portion of the assembly, when Lord Gre-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 197 
 
 ville, approaching them, asked permission to 
 present to Lady Cobham the Comte Tristan de 
 St, Sevron. Her fair face had already begun to 
 extenuate the bizarrerie of her toilet; and one 
 after another, the leading elegants of the Fau- 
 bourg solicited from Greville or from her brother 
 an introduction to the charmincr stranorer. 
 
 Lady Greville's prognostications seemed on 
 the eve of accomplishment ; — Julia was really in 
 danger of becoming la reine du ball — She 
 was solicited to dance, — to approach the refresh- 
 ment table, — to take a nearer survey of the 
 gardens, — by all that was most fashionable and 
 most rou^ in the French capital ! The brow 
 of the dismayed Sir James grew darker and 
 darker. At all times plain and uncouth, his 
 personal attractions were not increased by the 
 emaciation consequent upon his recent fit of the 
 gout ; and the pertinacious suUenness with 
 which he mounted guard over his pretty wife 
 excited in no small degree the amusement 
 of the gay coterie. A black speck inserted in 
 the brilliant line of beautiful women extend- 
 ing along the ball-room, was a blemish. It
 
 198 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 was only Lady Greville who, unaccustomed to 
 the bienseances of Paris, which do not allow a 
 gentleman to sit while a single lady in the room 
 is in want of a place, or to give his arm to his 
 chaste moitie, except when entering or quitting 
 the room, was of opinion that Sir James could 
 not be better placed than by the side of Lady 
 Cobham. 
 
 " "What a pretty f^te !" said the bewildered 
 Julia, having summoned up her best French to 
 attempt a conversation with her brother^s friend, 
 Achille de Cerny, who had planted himself 
 before her. 
 
 " Better lighted, certainly, than your London 
 balls," — replied Cerny, who affected Anglo- 
 mania only where it could give offence, — namely, 
 among his own country-people. '' It must be 
 owned, that the English are not adepts in the 
 art of ball-giving. Their rooms are not cal- 
 culated for lighting up. The colours are in- 
 variably too deep, — the furniture too variegated, 
 — the gilding lustreless, — the cornices and chan- 
 deliers heavy, — the floors uneven and paltry. 
 With respect to lighting, indeed, a few ill-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 199 
 
 trimmed lamps, and as many wax candles stuck 
 crooked by a sulky footman into frightful half- 
 cleaned lustres, replace the forests of bougies 
 which we are careful to place opposite to our 
 pier-glasses, so as to reflect the light." 
 
 *' And so as to make the room so oppressively 
 hot that there is no breathing," — abruptly inter- 
 posed Sir James ; whereupon. Monsieur de 
 Cerny honoured the uncouth gentleman with a 
 look of wonder, a low bow, and no further 
 notice. 
 
 " An ill-lighted ball-room is the most manque 
 thing on earth !" — resumed Achille. " The 
 first time I went to Almack's, I thought it 
 gloomy as a dungeon ; and conceived that the 
 dirty dresses, and faded finery I saw around me, 
 were assumed because it was not worth while to 
 faire des frais for a dingy ball, where the most 
 elegant recherche would have passed unnoticed. 
 By the time I had been a fortnight in London, 
 I discovered that Almack's was among the best 
 lighted of your balls ; and that the toilettes which 
 had so much shocked me were considered 
 perfect !"
 
 200 greville; or, 
 
 " Our ladies are not forced to trust entirely 
 to their niantuamakers and hairdressers for at- 
 traction !" again growled Sir James Cobham ; 
 and again the country baronet was honoured 
 with a bow of affable amazement. 
 
 «* The arts of lighting and ventilation, in short, 
 are in their infancy/' resumed Achille de Cerny, 
 addressing himself pointedly to Lady Cobham. 
 " I doubt whether the whole London season 
 affords a ball so light, so gay, so airy, so well 
 imagined, as this, — unless indeed in one or two 
 of your great houses, whose proprietors have 
 adopted the habits of the Continent !" 
 
 ^^ Est il impayahh r^ exclaimed the Prince de 
 Chaulieu, addressing Madame de Rostanges, 
 whom he was leading towards a set that was 
 forming. '' Is there any man in Paris, saving 
 Cerny the Anglomane, capable of uttering such 
 a speech as that to an Anglaise? Cerny, too, 
 who to us is always bepraising the fetes of 
 London !" — 
 
 " Let us conclude that he has imported the 
 hrusquerie o^ xhe English dandies with his grooms 
 and horses/' observed the Marchioness, gaily.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 201 
 
 " Traitress I" — whispered Chaulieu ; — "do 
 you dare to breathe a word against England, — 
 youj the last conquete won from us by our na- 
 tional foe ?" 
 
 The observation was fortunately lost upon 
 Madame de Rostanges ; who, being one of the 
 most exquisite dancers of the Faubourg, was 
 more interested in ascertaining that they had 
 secured a satisfactory vis-a-vis for the contre- 
 dajise, than in listening to the whispers of the 
 Prince de Chaulieu. 
 
 '' Ah ! we have got Claire de St. Pierre and 
 La Roche Aymar!" — said she, eagerly taking 
 her place ; '* and near an open window too. 
 Quel honheur /*' 
 
 Greville, meanwhile, who had never in his 
 life been prevailed upon to dance a step, 
 could find no better occupation than to assume 
 beside Lady Cobham the place which Madame 
 de St. Pierre, who had been doing the honours 
 of her ball to the pretty foreigner, had just 
 quitted for the dance. His mother, who was 
 at that moment moving towards the buffet 
 on the arm of the Marquis de Rostanges, 
 K 3
 
 *202 greville; or, 
 
 cast a lingering, anxious glance upon them, 
 little suspecting that the whisper he was pour- 
 ing into Julia's ear regarded only the names 
 of the various performers in the dance they were 
 observing. 
 
 *^ Who is that pretty delicate girl, with white 
 geraniums in her hair ?" — asked Lady Cobham. 
 
 " The Marchioness de Rostanges, — a cousin 
 of the Duchess, and the person through whom 
 we were invited here to-night," replied the 
 Earl. 
 
 '< A Marchioness ? — a married woman, — and 
 yet so light and lively ! — Madame de St. Pierre, 
 too, dances with all the spirit ofagirll" — sighed 
 poor Lady Cobham; ''and yet she assures me 
 that she is the mother of two children !" 
 
 " And why not ?" — cried Greville, laughing ; 
 *« a Frenchwoman would never have occasion 
 to dance at all, unless she danced after her 
 marriage. In this room, there are not a dozen 
 unmarried girls, and those chiefly the daughters 
 of diplomatists and foreigners. All the young 
 and gay creatures around us are mhes de 
 famille^^
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 203 
 
 " How happy they all look ! — What spirits !" 
 said Julia, wistfully, while Sir James Cobham 
 shrugged his shoulders with an air of compassion. 
 He even hinted something of having ordered his 
 carriage early, which Greville readily attributed 
 to the eagerness with which his lady was solicited 
 by a succession of fashionable valseurs, to accord 
 them the honour of her hand. 
 
 " I never dance," was to them a pretext, not 
 an answer. It was of course inconceivable to a 
 Frenchman, that a beautiful woman of one- 
 and-twenty should have renounced the pleasures 
 of the ball-room ; and by the time Julia had re- 
 peated her '' Je ne daiise pas,^'' for the twentieth 
 time, Achille de Cerny and the rest were be- 
 sinnincr to cast sicrnificant glances at her com- 
 panion, as a very happy man. They conceived 
 that it was to enjoy the society of Lord Greville 
 she made the sacrifice of sitting out. 
 
 «' How exquisitely that Madame de Rostanges 
 dances," she resumed, with genuine admiration. 
 <* What ease — what grace — and yet how free 
 from all attempt at display !" 
 
 *' The Duchesse de St. Pierre, too, is a charm- 
 ing dancer," observed Greville, unwilling to
 
 204 greville; or, 
 
 trust himself to talk of Madame de Rostanges, 
 and almost of Sir James Cobham's opinion, 
 that a matron has no right to exhibit her attrac- 
 tions to the throng, in an exercise so gratuitous. 
 «* They are cousins, — there is a slight resem- 
 blance between them." 
 
 " I do not perceive it," replied Julia, frankly. 
 " Madame de St. Pierre is a handsome woman 
 certajnly; but she wants the grace and repose 
 of Madame de Rostanges. In her there is such 
 an air of truth, — such an expression of good- 
 ness !" — 
 
 " Madame de St. Pierre is also very amiable," 
 observed Greville, bending upon his companion 
 looks that conveyed the gratitude he dared not 
 trust himself to express. 
 
 " But she appears so restless, — so eager !" — 
 
 " You must make allowance for her empresse- 
 mentf as mistress of the house," replied Greville, 
 wondering that he had hitherto considered 
 Massingberd's sister so vapid and uninteresting. 
 " In Paris, it is considered indispensable to do 
 the honours on these occasions, particularly to 
 strangers." 
 
 " In my opinion, it is a regular nuisance to
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 205 
 
 have the honours of a house done to one !" 
 snarled Sir James Cobham, who seemed to be 
 imbibing Achille de Cerny's and Lady Greville's 
 opinion, that the Earl's whispers in the ear of 
 Julia were somewhat close. " It is the surest 
 way of preventing one's feeling oneself at home ! 
 A London ball room, where the lady of the 
 house curtsies to one at the door, and takes no 
 further thought of one afterwards, is fifty times 
 pleasanter than all this plaguing people to 
 dance, and hoping they are not incommoded 
 by the air of the door, — just like the civilities 
 with which one is persecuted in our country 
 towns!" 
 
 *' I confess I am favourably impressed with 
 the courtesies of the French, in their own circles," 
 observed Greville. '* After conversing with them, 
 the abruptness of the English strikes me as most 
 offensive. There seems to be something want- 
 ing; either the real sympathy inducing de- 
 ference of manner, or the good breeding that 
 assumes its semblance. I trust you are of my 
 opinion ?" he continued, again addressing Lady 
 Cobham, with an air of interest. And Julia,
 
 206 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 ■* 
 
 who, from the day of her marriage to that night, 
 had not received so many compliments and at- 
 tentions as during the preceding hour, was too 
 much in good humour with herself and the 
 party, to be otherwise than acquiescent. 
 
 " I am sure I should like Paris," was her con- 
 cluding comment. *' If I thought the air would 
 agree with the children, I had much rather 
 spen4 next winter here than at Melton." 
 
 "Thank you! — we have had enough of the 
 Continent for some time to come !" interposed 
 Sir James. " I gave up my hunting this winter, 
 because you fancied that little George required 
 a warm climate. But if you catch me out of 
 England at Christmas again in a hurry ! — I'm a 
 plain John Bull, thank God ! — I don't pretend 
 to a taste for French polish ! — I neither wish to 
 see my wife capering among a pack of cursed 
 mustachioed fellows, nor to caper after other 
 men's wives myself! — As I said before, I 
 am a plain John Bull !" — (Fred Massingberd 
 was not at hand to add, as he had often added 
 before, "a remarkably plain one I") " And now, 
 Julia, as Lady Greville is coming back, be so
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS, 207 
 
 good as to inquire whether she is ready to go 
 home, that I may hasten to inquire after the 
 carriage. '* 
 
 The air of consternation with which his mo- 
 ther stood observing the manifest perturbation 
 of the surly Sir James Cobham, was lost upon 
 Greville, whose eyes were still riveted on the 
 dancers. 
 
 ** I am quite ready, — we cannot go too soon !" 
 was Lady Greville's reply, seeing in her son's 
 pre-occupation of mind, only a further evidence 
 of his devotion to the pretty, glittering creature 
 beside him. And away they hurried, to look 
 for shawls in the anteroom, leaving Greville at 
 liberty to return and enjoy unmolested the more 
 dangerous pleasures of the evening. 
 
 '* Farewell till to-morrow !" — was his adieu to 
 Lady Cobham, — as he escorted her to the car- 
 riage. And the tone of his voice, modulated by 
 emotions in which she had not the slightest 
 share, did not escape the notice of his anxious 
 parent. All she had noticed at the ball of the 
 Duchesse de St. Pierre, was the attention paid 
 by Hugo to the pretty sister of Frederick Mas-
 
 208 greville; or^ 
 
 singberd. Madame de Rostanges and Made- 
 moiselle de Nangis were merely passing shadows 
 in the picture ; persons whose destinies lay so 
 widely apart from her own, that she could con- 
 ceive no common interest likely to bring them 
 into contact. She had scarcely spoken to them ; 
 but they were probably too eagerly engaged in 
 the pleasures of the evening to notice her neglect. 
 
 Scarcely had the English party quitted the 
 ball, when Madame de Rostanges, on the arm 
 of the Prince de Chaulieu, hastened to remind 
 her husband, now relieved from the charge of 
 Lady Greville, that his health was not suf- 
 ficiently re-established to admit of his keeping 
 late hours. 
 
 ^« No, no, — a little longer I" — was his conside- 
 rate reply. " You have had so dull a winter, 
 my poor Sophie, and Eugenie so little dancing, 
 that I cannot hear of your retiring so early. 
 Nay, since you are thus anxious on my account, 
 I will take the carriage and be off. Madame 
 de Chaulieu will bring you home, and Lord 
 Greville will take care of you." 
 
 " I was in hopes that charge might have been
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 209 
 
 delegated to me !" said the young Prince, with 
 an air of pique. '* Are we to be supplanted 
 everywhere and on all occasions, my dear Mar- 
 quis, by the handsome foreigner you have 
 brought down upon us ?" — 
 
 '' You know not how heavy my obligations 
 to him, my dear friend !" gravely interposed 
 Rostanges. And Chaulieu, — apprehensive of 
 hearing for the hundred and fourteenth time a 
 recapitulation of the Marquis's hair-breadth 
 escape at the Chateau de Grangeneuve, with an 
 embellished tribute to the heroism of the young 
 English lord and the excellence of his travelling- 
 carriage, — found it expedient to whisk off Ma- 
 dame de Rostanges into the refreshment room, 
 leaving her husband to pursue his prudent 
 intentions of retreat. 
 
 '* I am off, — I am hurrying home to bed. 
 Sophie would not hear of my staying, nor I of 
 her curtailing the pleasures of her sister !" cried 
 Rostanges to Lord Greville, whom he encoun- 
 tered in the vestibule, returning from placing 
 Lady Cobham in her carriage. " You will take 
 care of them for me ? — Mille remercimens ! —
 
 210 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 Chaulieu is not to be trusted I — Chaulieu has 
 been trying to entice my poor Sophie into the 
 gardens ; and though the night is so warm, I 
 am convinced there must be a dew. Rien de 
 danger eux comme le serein ! — Veillez y mon cher 
 milor ! — A revoir.'^ — 
 
 It was, perhaps, this prudent warning that 
 instigated Lord Greville, on his return to the 
 assembly, to beguile Madame de Rostanges into 
 the gardens of the Hotel St. Pierre ! — It was an 
 enchanting scene. Myriads of twinkling lamps 
 were interspersed in the overarching alleys of 
 lime trees ; while among the gay parterres ad- 
 joining the ball-room, a still more brilliant 
 species of illumination was effected by fountains 
 of portable gas. 
 
 " We could not do this in England, in 
 the month of May," said Greville, having in- 
 duced the Marchioness to rest awhile, upon a 
 bench at some distance from the house. " To 
 venture thus from a heated ball-room into the 
 open air, would with us be fatal. Yet here, 
 how mild, — how serene!'* he continued, point- 
 ing to the clear sky over their heads. " How
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 211 
 
 refreshing this tranquil moonlight, after the 
 glare of light within V 
 
 " Madame voire mere informed me to-night, 
 that she purposes only a few days' stay in Paris," 
 said Madame de Rostanges, pursuing the train 
 of her own reflexions rather than those of her 
 companion. " Were you prepared for so early 
 a departure? We shall remain a fortnight 
 longer. I was in hopes you would be here as 
 long as ourselves I" 
 
 Greville was more than in hopes, — he was 
 quite certain. Yet he could not refuse himself 
 the pleasure of being urged to stay by the gentle 
 voice of Madame de Rostanges. 
 
 " The Marquis," said she, after a pause, 
 " was so sanguine as to fancy you might even be 
 induced to visit Les Etangs, on your road to 
 England? But this I do not expect, — this I 
 do not desire. Our friend. Monsieur de Cerny, 
 and others of my countrymen who have so- 
 journed at your country-seats, have made me 
 too thoroughly understand the splendour and 
 comfort of the vie de chateau in England, to 
 admit of my proposing that you should become
 
 212 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 our inmate. Nothing can be more simple, more 
 mesquin if you will, than our country hfe. You 
 would die of ennui, — you would die of disgust — " 
 
 " I might die of happiness, — but I know no 
 other danger likely to assail me," said Greville, 
 in a slightly tremulous voice. ^* You do me 
 injustice if you fancy me wedded to the luxuries 
 of life. A man must be lost indeed to all the 
 better aims — all the higher purposes of ex- 
 istence, — if mere diversion or mere luxurious- 
 ness have any real influence over his movements. 
 I trust I have nobler ambitions, — I trust I have 
 dearer aspirations ! — " 
 
 " By generalizing thus," observed Sophie, 
 with quiet self-possession, " I see you wish 
 to avoid the ungraciousness of a negative. 
 You are determined on departure. You 
 will not remain in Paris till we go to Nor- 
 mandy ?" 
 
 " I did not conceive the necessity of a direct 
 reply," answered Greville, vexed by her non- 
 chalance. " From the moment you expressed 
 a desire that I should remain, my stay was 
 decided."
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS, 213 
 
 " How could I do otherwise than desire you 
 to remain ?" remonstrated Madame de Ros- 
 tanges, somewhat startled by his earnestness. 
 " What would become of our riding-parties 
 were you to leave us ? — The Marquis will trust 
 us with no one but you^ — and is not himself yet 
 strong enough to be our escort. Eugenie's 
 lessons in English, too, would go on but in- 
 differently after your departure. I perceive 
 that she learns more from half an hour's con- 
 versation with you^ than from half a dozen 
 lessons of her masters." 
 
 " Then why not allow me to extend my 
 sphere of usefulness by accompanying you to 
 Les Etangs ?" demanded Lord Greville, draw- 
 ing nearer to his companion. 
 
 " Because you would be thoroughly out of 
 place among our rough forests and rougher 
 country neighbours," said Madame de Rostanges, 
 laughing. " I wish you could have seen your 
 friend Monsieur de Massinbert's face while I 
 was describing to him our primitive mode of life 
 in Normandy !" 
 
 " Wherefore judge my habits and feelings by
 
 214 greville; or, 
 
 those of an accidental companion like Massing- 
 berd !" — cried Greville, with indignation. 
 
 "Nay, nay! — a camarade de collige^ — an 
 early friend !" remonstrated Madame de Ros- 
 tanges. 
 
 " Do you imagine," persisted Greville, that 
 because I see you assume the same style of dress 
 as les lionnes, I confound you a single moment 
 with the heartless, frivolous, I had almost said 
 worthless, women by whom you are surrounded ? 
 Is it because you w^ear a simple straw bonnet 
 and a robe en gaine that you must be a coquette, 
 like Madame de St. Pierre, or an effrontee like 
 her friend the Vicomtesse ? — No, no ! — Trust 
 me I never for a moment mistook your purity 
 of mind, — your childlike simplicity of character. 
 Render me equal j ustice. Do not pronounce me 
 an effeminate fool or a corrupt libertine, because 
 I happen to belong to a class whose vices and 
 follies are unluckily more ostensible than those 
 of the multitude." 
 
 " I will give you credit for every virtue under 
 the sun, if you will speak a little lower and 
 think a little more charitably," mildly remon-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 215 
 
 strated Madame de Rostanges. *« Above all, do 
 not give me occasion to accuse you of that be- 
 setting sin of your countrymen, — d'etre mauvaise 
 langue. Madame de St. Pierre is my relation, — 
 her friends are my friends. We are at present 
 under her roof, — that is, we ought to be, and are 
 about to be," — she continued, looking towards 
 the sky and rising from her seat, as if preparing 
 to return to the house. " Do not, because you 
 happen to have been enjoying the society of one 
 of your countrywomen, whose manners are more 
 reserved and whose habits more sober than 
 ours, attribute to mine — (no, not even to les 
 Uonnes, against whom you seem to entertain a 
 guignon I) — motives less pure than those of the 
 decorous Lady Cobham." 
 
 Lord Greville started. There was a tone of 
 pique in the insinuation of Madame de Ros- 
 tanges strangely at variance with her previous 
 insouciance. He was about to burst into pro- 
 testations of indifference and contempt towards 
 Massingberd's sister ; when a moment's consi- 
 deration, — the fruit perhaps of a month's expe- 
 rience of the corruptions of Parisian life, — de- 
 termined him to forbear.
 
 216 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 " If I am illiberal in my opinion of your 
 cousin the Duchess," said he, in a measured 
 voice, " believe me you judge unfairly of Lady 
 Cobham. She is a person as irreproachable as 
 she is lovely. As a wife and mother, wife to a 
 surly husband and mother to two peevish, sickly 
 children, Lady Cobham is excellent beyond all 
 praise." 
 
 Greville flattered himself at that moment that 
 he had achieved a coup de maitre, and that the 
 sudden eagerness of Madame de Rostanges to 
 return towards the house, might be actuated by 
 a feeling of jealousy. 
 
 " Eugenie is right !" said she, taking his arm 
 at the close of his apostrophe ; " we are capable 
 of drawing our deductions of character only ac- 
 cording to the prejudices of early education. 
 Eugenie was saying yesterday that you, for 
 instance, would never acquire a real taste for 
 our society ; that the ancient national anta- 
 gonism between French and English exists as 
 strong as ever in your heart." 
 
 *' And this cruel reproach," cried Greville, 
 " because I ventured to take up the defence 
 of—''
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 217 
 
 «' Quick — quick I — they are beginning a ma- 
 zurka, and I have been everywhere in search of 
 you !" cried Albert de La Roche Aymar, offering 
 his arm to the Marchioness, as she attained the 
 parterres adjoining the HoteL — " Mademoiselle 
 de Nangis began to fear you had returned home 
 with Monsieur de Rostanges." 
 
 '* I left my sister with Sidonie and the Prin- 
 cesse," said Madame de Rostanges, re-entering 
 the ball-room, eager to enjoy her mazurka with 
 one of the most popular partners of the Fau- 
 bourg. " I have been quietly seated in the 
 garden, arguing over with Lord Greville the 
 respective merits of our national manners." 
 
 " Toujours ce milor /" — cried the Prince de 
 Chaulieu, who, standing in the doorway as she 
 passed, overheard the explanation. — " Celui Id 
 nous vengera de son indifference ; mais c'est une 
 vengeance dontje me dispenserais bienT' 
 
 Lord Greville, meanwhile, taking up his usual 
 post of observation beside one of the columns 
 of the dancing gallery, with his eyes fixed upon 
 the picturesque movements of the mazurka, ad- 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 mirably performed by the leading beauties of the 
 Faubourg, began almost to regret that dancing 
 had formed no part of his Eton and Oxford 
 education.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 219 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Quand on veut plaire dans le monde, il faut se laisser 
 apprendre beaucoup de choses qu'on salt, par des personnes 
 qui les ignorent. 
 
 Voltaire. 
 
 '* Then what have you been seeing and 
 doing, my dear Hugo, during the last three 
 weeks?" — inquired Lady Greville of her son, 
 when he joined her breakfast-table, at the Hote* 
 Bristol, the following morning. '' You say you 
 have visited none of the public monuments or 
 institutions ?" — 
 
 '* I am not fond of sight-seeing, — particularly 
 alone," — said Greville, evasively. 
 
 '' But the Chambers — surely you must have 
 l2
 
 220 greville; or, 
 
 been anxious to obtain some idea of the public 
 men, — the leading orators of the day ?" — 
 
 " I am ashamed to say how little !" answered 
 Greville, with a sigh. " On such occasions, I 
 am invariably disappointed ; and for the future, 
 intend to remain the dupe of my imagination." 
 
 " How bored you must have found yourself, 
 since you take no interest in all that usually 
 occupies a stranger in Paris !" — observed Lady 
 Greville, with her inquiring eyes fixed on his 
 countenance. 
 
 " Never, mother, never, I assure you !" — cried 
 the Earl, with earnestness. *' Like Valerie in 
 the play — * J^attejidais /' I knew," he resumed, 
 fearing he might have said too much, " that 
 when you and Lady Cobham arrived, I should 
 have full occupation for my leisure." 
 
 " Sir James has no thought of prolonging his 
 stay here," said her ladyship, sternly. " He has 
 business in town, and talks of being off to- 
 morrow." 
 
 *• The deuce he does !" cried Greville, appre- 
 hensive that this abrupt departure might in- 
 fluence the movements of his mother. *' That
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 221 
 
 will be a great disappointment to poor Fred 
 Massingberd, who is dying to remain here till 
 after the Chantilly races." 
 
 " It would be no great stretch of kindness on 
 your part to remain another week, and give him 
 a place in your carriage to London, as you did 
 to Paris," — said Lady Greville, busying herself 
 with the egg she was preparing, lest her son 
 should read in her looks the anxiety with which 
 she listened for his reply. *' I am strongly in- 
 clined to accompany the Cobhams, if you de- 
 termine to accommodate your friend." 
 
 ^' By Jove, — an excellent idea !" — cried the 
 Earl, overjoyed at the proposal. '^ After all, as 
 you say, my dear mother, it will disgrace me 
 in England if I return without having visited 
 the Louvre, — the gallery at Versailles, — the 
 Archives, — the, — the everything that a laquais 
 de place drags one about to look at! — After all, 
 Fred Massingberd's attachment to the Jockey- 
 Club may prove the means of redeeming my 
 character !" — 
 
 " In that case," continued Lady Greville, 
 greatly surprised, and still watching him with
 
 222 greville; or, 
 
 the expectation of some evasion, — " in that case, 
 we had better renounce the dejeuner at the Em- 
 bassy this morning. We shall probably start 
 to-morrow ; and I have a thousand plans and 
 projects to talk over with you, preparatory to 
 my arrival in England." 
 
 *' I fear I cannot give up the breakfast," said 
 Greville. " We have two or three hours before 
 us, for conversation. It is amazing how much 
 may be said by determined talkers, my dear 
 mother, in the course of two or three hours." 
 
 " It is something new for you to be so fond 
 o^fites /" — observed his mother, peevishly. 
 
 " New, perhaps, — but at my age surely not 
 very unnatural !" replied he, gaily. " Last night, 
 I could have almost regretted the want of skill 
 which prevented my joining in the dance ; — 
 except, indeed," he continued, apprehensive of 
 having given too tangible a clue to his senti- 
 ments ; " except, indeed, that as our charming 
 friend Lady Cobham had no better cavalier, my 
 services were in request. You have no notion, 
 by the way, how much sensation her beauty 
 created. Were she to remain here, and obtain
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 223 
 
 some little insight into tlie mysteries of a French 
 toilet, she would become irresistible." 
 
 '' I saw no one better dressed, last night!" 
 said Lady Greville, forgetting for a moment her 
 personal antipathies, in the stronger animosity 
 of national jealousy. 
 
 " No one more richly dressed, perhaps. But 
 she was the only woman in the room who 
 appeared in a winter costume amid the lightness 
 of the summer season. Here, satins and jewels 
 are abolished after Easter. The French hold 
 that there is reason as well as rhyme in the old 
 song, — describing 
 
 Une robe legere 
 
 D'une extreme blancheur, 
 
 Un chapeau de bergfere, 
 De nos bois une fleur, 
 
 as the attributes of summer." 
 
 '* I no longer wonder, my dear Hugo, that 
 you have not found a moment to visit the 
 Chambers or the Bibliotheque !" — cried Lady 
 Greville, with rising indignation. " Your friend 
 Mr. Massingberd has evidently been introducing 
 you through a course of milliners* shops !"
 
 2-24 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 " My friend Fred, — who is very little in the 
 habit of being called < Mister,'" — replied Greville, 
 laughing at her unwonted impetuosity, " is too 
 much occupied with h\s jeu depaume^ and tir aux 
 pigeonsy — his stalle d'op^ra and nightly whist, — 
 to take much trouble about the completion of 
 my education. But to return to business, (for 
 I am not ashamed to own that just now my 
 business is pleasure,) let me strongly advise you, 
 dear mother, not to absent yourself from this 
 breakfast. It is the only opportunity you 
 will have of seeing the notabilities of Paris; 
 and " 
 
 <' I have as little curiosity on the subject as 
 you concerning its galleries and institutions," 
 was her cold reply. '' Make what arrangements 
 you choose with Lady Cobham and the person 
 not in the habit of being called * Mister !' I, at 
 least, shall form no obstacle to your entertain- 
 ment.*' 
 
 Grieved to perceive that he had annoyed her, 
 though scarcely understanding the nature of his 
 offence, the Earl was about to follow his former 
 custom of purchasing by whatever concession
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 2*25 
 
 she might demand, her restoration to a happier 
 mood, when in walked Sir James Cobham, 
 still more out of temper than Lady Greville. 
 His wife had not been ready to breakfast with 
 him, — his wife had never ceased talking of the 
 brilliancy of a Parisian ball. — his wife was 
 anxious to go to the dejeuner dansant, — his wife 
 had even ventured to propose the prolongation 
 of their stay in Paris ! — He was become a secon- 
 dary object to her! — The children, — the poor 
 children,^ — nay, even the head-nurse was over- 
 looked in all this excitement of folly and 
 vanity ! — To propose to him to remain in 
 Paris, — to him ! — in Paris ! What was there for 
 a man, — a reasonable man, like himself, — to do 
 in Paris ? — How was he to pass his time, while 
 she was lounging at Madame Camille's, or 
 flirtino: with Monsieur le Comte Achille de 
 Cerny ? — 
 
 No wonder that a man thus injured, should 
 enter Lady Greville's breakfast- room with the 
 scowl of an ogre ; and avenge himself by assum 
 ing an Englishman's privilege of contradicting 
 every observation addressed to him by the- 
 l3
 
 226 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 Earl, even regarding that open question — the 
 weather ! 
 
 Lord Greville prognosticated that it would 
 be fine for the breakfast ; Sir James was cer- 
 tain it would rain. Lord Greville ventured to 
 persist that it would be fine ; Sir James became 
 furiously resolved it should be rain. Lord 
 Greville pointed to the clear blue sky; Sir 
 JaiT>es swore that it would rain cats and dogs. 
 Lord Greville referred to the barometer ; Sir 
 James condescended to quote from Murphy. 
 It was clear that the cross husband was primed 
 for dissension ; and his hostess who, five minutes 
 before, had been preparing to quarrel with her 
 son, became now so much alarmed in the sup- 
 position that Sir James Cobham^s irritability 
 arose from well-founded jealousy of the Earl, 
 that all her care was to conciliate him and get 
 Greville in safety out of the room. 
 
 Nothing was easier for her than to give him 
 a commission for a distant part of the town ; 
 nothing easier than for the Earl to undertake 
 its execution. No sooner, however, did he 
 escape from the Hotel Bristol, than he assigned
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 2*27 
 
 his commission to his laquais de place, in order 
 that he might hasten to Madame Adde's, to 
 superintend the composition of two bouquets, 
 to be despatched, for the morning's fete, to the 
 Hotel de Rostansjes. 
 
 The door of the sweetest of Parisians was 
 already besieged by cabriolets, intent upon a 
 similar errand. Madame Adde (familiarly 
 named by Chaulieu and La Roche Aymar, la 
 mere des lions,) was standing perplexed between 
 princes and peers, — roses and jessamine, — de- 
 fending with loyalty the gardenias bespoken by 
 Lord Greville, and the solitary magnolia belong- 
 ing par ahonnement to Frederic de St. Pierre ; — 
 while on the counter, lay garlands for bonnets, 
 agraffes for the hair, and bouquets for the hand, 
 — made up with unequalled taste and skill, and 
 about to be sent home to the fairest of les Honnes, 
 both of the Faubourg and Chaussee d'Antin. 
 The single flower, the Succes, — the Triomphe — 
 destined for the button-hole of each correspon- 
 dent lion, was also carefully shaped and pre- 
 pared ; — the houquetiere remaining, of course, in 
 proper ignorance of the signals of the tele-
 
 228 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 graph she managed, while selecting and distri- 
 buting 
 
 All those token flowers that tell 
 What words can never speak so well. 
 
 Greville, with his habitual reserve, waited till 
 the last cabriolet drove from the door, bearing 
 off enveloped in snow-white paper its fragrant 
 prize, before he attempted to give his orders. 
 
 " I have had some difficulty, Mi4or, as you 
 may perceive, in keeping these gardenias for 
 you," said Madame Adde. " On such a day as 
 this, every one is wild for the choicest flowers ; 
 and had not yours been bespoken, I might have 
 realized forty francs by them. — Voyons I — two 
 bouquets a la main, you say ? Are the gardenias 
 to be equally distributed between them, — and 
 with what coeffure are they to match ?" — 
 
 " The gardenias are all to be placed in one 
 nosegay," said Lord Greville, ashamed to find 
 himself involved in puerilities which, to a young 
 Frenchman, especially if a lion, afford serious 
 occupation. 
 
 " The two bouquets, then, are not to be of 
 equal richness ?" — demanded Madame Adde,
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 229 
 
 who was now seated in busy activity, sorting her 
 flowers. 
 
 '^ Yes — with that exception, they must be 
 alike."— 
 
 '* But what am I to substitute for the gar- 
 denias? — The nosegay, you perceive, will be 
 composed of roses, — (pompon and the,) — helio- 
 trope, cactus, fuchsia, — " 
 
 " You can let orange-flower correspond with 
 the gardenias/' said Greville, not desirous to 
 enter too minutely into these floral emblems. 
 
 " It is for a demoiselle, then ?" — demanded 
 Madame Adde, with a significant smile, — "a 
 demoiselle Franfaise, I trust ? — You are of 
 course aware, Milor, that with us a gift of orange- 
 flowers to an unmarried lady amounts to a pro- 
 posal of marriage ?" — 
 
 « Give me myrtle, then, or azorian jessamine, 
 or what you will !" cried Greville, growing im- 
 patient, — "only make haste; for I have to 
 convey the bouquets some distance before I 
 return home to dress for the breakfast." 
 
 <« May I not be permitted to send them, then ?" 
 inquired Madame Adde, accustomed to find
 
 230 greville; or, 
 
 herself trusted on such occasions, and tolerably 
 aufait to all the love affairs of either Faubourg. 
 
 " No, — I wish to offer them in person," said 
 Greville; and in order to avoid further ques- 
 tioning, he agreed to return in two minutes ; 
 prepared to loiter away the interval in a con- 
 templation of the beauties of the church of the 
 Madeleine, opposite to the portico of which 
 starrds the diminutive but scarcely less renowned 
 temple of the bouquetiire en vogue. 
 
 To his surprise and vexation, he found the 
 carriage of the Cobhams stopping at the gate 
 opening from the Rue Tronchet to the Made- 
 leine ! — He could do no less than offer his arm 
 to Julia, who was being dragged by her husband 
 through a round of sight-seeing, (at Lady Gre- 
 ville's instigation,) by way of making her too 
 tired for the breakfast. Then, as if ashamed of 
 his ungallant reluctance, he offered her a beau- 
 tiful Cristata rose which, almost unconsciously, 
 he had carried away from the counter of Madame 
 Adde. 
 
 " Was it Lady Greville who apprized you of 
 my intended visit here ?" — demanded Sir James,
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 231 
 
 who could scarcely suppose the arrival of Lord 
 Greville at the church door the result of accident. 
 
 '' No ! — I little expected to meet such agree- 
 able society!" he replied, with what Cobham 
 regarded unparalled audacity. " I have an 
 appointment in the neighbourhood, and am 
 simply idling away the interim." 
 
 " We have every reason to feel flattered," 
 sneered Sir James; while poor Julia grew more 
 and more nervous, on finding him so sadly out 
 of sorts. 
 
 It could not but occur as a matter of surprise 
 to the gardieuy standing beside them in his blue 
 uniform and solemn silence, that three well- 
 dressed English persons should come of their 
 own free will to visit the interior of the fine 
 temple of the Madeleine, yet not one of them 
 make a single comment on its beauties, or even 
 deign to pause for the survey ! — They stood 
 together, talking in the midst of the church, as 
 though it were the king's highway ; — Lord Gre- 
 ville persuading Lady Cobham to go to the 
 dejeuner, and Sir James looking four-and-twenty 
 pounders at the offender.
 
 232 greville; or, 
 
 Little did Madame Adde conjecture when 
 receiving, at the close of her task, the civil 
 thanks and still more acceptable gold of the 
 handsome young Englishman, what perils he 
 had encountered while she was leisurely com- 
 pleting his order. 
 
 Meanwhile, the weather, albeit a fete was in 
 progress, fulfilled the auguries of the Earl in 
 preference to those of the grumbling country 
 baronet. The morning was resplendent, — the 
 afternoon beautiful ; — a slightly-clouded sky, un- 
 accompanied by a breath of wind, promised all 
 that the most fastidious could desire. It was 
 what the French appropriately call un temps de 
 demoiselle. 
 
 Already, carriages were crowding towards the 
 Faubourg St. Honore, where stands the resi- 
 dence of the British Ambassador ; of which the 
 hospitalities during the last quarter of a cen- 
 tury have exceeded fourfold those of any other 
 household in Paris, during four times the same 
 number of years. The present fete was given 
 to commemorate a royal birthday; and the con- 
 servatory surrounding the garden front of the
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 233 
 
 Hotel, as well as an adjoining temporary room, 
 were ornamented on every side, from floor to 
 ceiling, with the most exquisite flowers. In the 
 grand hall of entrance, the English guests were 
 gratified by the sound of their national anthem, 
 executed by an excellent military band ; while, 
 from the dancing-gallery within, resounded the 
 inspiriting orchestra of Tolbecque. 
 
 " What'delightful weather, — what a charming 
 f^te !" — resounded from groups of gaily dressed 
 beauties of all nations, sauntering on the lawn 
 shaded by lofty trees, which slopes from the 
 house towards the Champs Elysees. 
 
 '' The season could not be more auspiciously 
 concluded than by one of the exquisite enter- 
 tainments of I'Ambassadrice d' Angleterre !" was 
 no unfrequent exclamation among the French ; 
 ever prompt to render justice to the princely 
 manner in which the honours of our country 
 are offered to them by its representatives at the 
 court of France. 
 
 " Who on earth are all these strange-looking 
 people?" — demanded Fred Massingberd of Cerny 
 and La Roche Aymar, with whom, among the
 
 234 greville; or, 
 
 latest arrivals, he lounged into the ball-room, 
 trembling lest he should be suspected by the 
 French dandies of any acquaintance with the 
 Ebsworths, Macmichaels, and other obscure 
 English guests assembled by an official fSte. 
 
 " I should rather inquire of you, since they 
 are your countrypeople !'* said La Roche Aymar. 
 " We, however, are wise enough not to expect 
 exclusivism on these occasions. It is not at 
 these general acknowledgments of Foreign office 
 letters, we form our selection of English ac- 
 quaintances. I think I met you here on Mon- 
 day night ?" — he continued, significantly addres- 
 sing Massingberd, who, not being included 
 among the personal friends of the Ambassadress, 
 and consequently not invited to her private 
 parties, found it convenient just then to swear 
 at the infernal noise of the cornet a piston^ 
 instead of replying to the question. 
 
 ** Where is Greville this morning ?" — resumed 
 La Roche Aymar, good-naturedly dropping the 
 subject for one more acceptable. 
 
 " Greville ? — oh ! Grev is re-installed under 
 petticoat government," cried the dandy. " Grev,
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 235 
 
 you know, is hag-ridden by a despot of a mother, 
 who, for the next three years don't allow him to 
 call his soul or his estate his own." 
 
 " He seems, nevertheless, to do and to spend 
 pretty much what he pleases," observed La 
 Roche Aymar, with whom, as with most fo- 
 reigners, parental authority was sacred. 
 
 " Lady Greville is only just arrived in Paris," 
 said Massingberd, in explanation. 
 
 " Une femme presentable ?" — demanded La 
 Roche Aymar. 
 
 " You saw her last night at Madame de 
 St Pierre's." 
 
 " Dragonizing that pretty Madame de Cob- 
 ham, who seemed sinking under the weight of 
 her dulness and her diamonds ?" — 
 
 " Precisely." 
 
 " Une femme charmante^ — d'un ton parfaite- 
 mentcomme ilfautP^ — replied La Roche Aymar, 
 to the great surprise of the St. James's Street 
 dandy, unaccustomed to consider a woman a 
 human being, after forty ; or to imagine that the 
 word charmante could be applied to appropri- 
 ateness of dress and deportment, as well as to 
 the attractions of youth and beauty.
 
 236 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 '* But we shall see Lord Greville here, I 
 presume?'* — continued Albert de la Roche 
 Ay mar. '' On such an occasion as this, he 
 would not absent himself; — more particularly 
 as they treat him in this house almost as one 
 of the family." 
 
 <' I should rather inquire of yow," said Fred, 
 bored by the cross-examination of his companion, 
 yet»fully alive to the advantage of being seen on 
 the arm of one of the superlatives of the day. 
 " Greville has cut his English friends ; — except 
 now and then at the club, I never behold 
 him." 
 
 " Cest vrai /" replied Albert. '' Depuis quelque 
 temps, il reste toujours hlotti dans son petit coin 
 du Faubourg — et ilfait bien^ — 
 
 " He will be a monstrous catch for Mademoi- 
 selle de Nangis !" cried Fred, staring out of 
 countenance the fair faces around them. 
 
 " A monstrous what ?" — demanded Albert de 
 La Roche Aymar, in some surprise. 
 
 " A splendid parti for that black-eyed sister 
 of Madame de Rostanges." 
 
 *' Do you imagine," inquired Albert, gravely, 
 — not certain whether the remark were intended
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 237 
 
 as a mystification, — " do you really imagine that 
 Greville is attracted to the Rue St. Dominique 
 by the black eyes of Eugenie de Nangis ?" — 
 
 '' I imagine that he is invited there out of 
 deference to his forty thousand a year. Un 
 million de rentes, mon cher^ ne nuit a rieiu 
 Greville is completely at home among them. 
 You talk of his being received in this house as 
 V enfant de la maison ; he is fifty times more 
 cordially "welcomed by old Rostanges and his 
 wife!" 
 
 Albert could scarcely repress a smile. He 
 resolved to inflict upon Fred Massingberd, as a 
 punishment for his stupidity, the narrative of 
 the burning of the Chateau de Grangeneuve, so 
 often recounted to him by the Marquis. But 
 Fred stopped him in the outset. 
 
 '• My dear fellow, — I know all that! — I was 
 there ! — I was the first person who discovered 
 the fire. But they never invite me to dinner — 
 thev don't ask me to accompany them into Nor- 
 mandy !" — 
 
 " Did you venture up a rickety ladder, pray, 
 to snatch the poor asthmatic Marquis out of the
 
 238 greville; or, 
 
 flames?** inquired Albert, smiling at his irrita- 
 tion. 
 
 " Not I ! — I hope I am not such an ass ! — 
 But rely upon it, that if I had, it would have 
 been long enough before they attempted to en- 
 tangle me in an engagement with Mademoiselle 
 de Nangis." 
 
 " I suspect, however, that your fortunes are 
 far better assorted with hers, than those of your 
 friend,'* observed Albert, unable to suppose a 
 marriage formed on any other basis than parity 
 of means. " Mademoiselle de Nangis has not 
 more than five-and- twenty thousand francs in- 
 come, which is, I think, somewhat about what 
 you told me your father allowed you, — a 
 thousand pounds sterling a year." 
 
 Again Fred Massingberd, unable to confirm, 
 saw fit to turn a deaf ear to the interrogation. 
 He was surprised, however, to find the black- 
 eyed damsel in question so well endowed. Un- 
 accustomed to the equal distribution of fortunes 
 in French families, he had expected that five 
 or ten thousand pounds formed the utmost of 
 her dowry. For a moment, he began to ask
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 239 
 
 himself whether she might not be worthy his 
 
 own consideration. 
 
 " Lady Greville would move heaven and 
 
 earth rather than consent to her son's marriatre 
 
 o 
 
 with a foreigner," said he, by way of dispatching 
 an intimation through La Roche Aymar to the 
 Rostanges family ; " and she has at present 
 unqualified power over his fortunes. She might 
 make him a ward in Chancery, — she might 
 curtail his allowance, — ^she might " 
 
 " She might satisfy herself, had she honoured 
 the ambassadress with her company," inter- 
 rupted Albert, — drawing Massingberd into the 
 gardens, and pointing out the object of their 
 discussion seated under the overhanging branches 
 of a beautiful hawthorn, by the side of Madame 
 de Rostanges, — " that her son is at present in no 
 very great peril of holy matrimony." 
 
 Blushing for the morality of his previous 
 inferences, Fred Massingberd affected to laugh 
 off the affair as a jest. He was really ashamed of 
 his credulity ; but in spite of his own deeply in- 
 grained roueriey there was something in the 
 almost feminine purity of Greville's character.
 
 240 greville; oh, 
 
 which had hitherto prevented his attributing to 
 the attractions of the married sister, the devoue- 
 ment of his friend. 
 
 " When are we hkely to hear news of break- 
 fast?" — said Albert, addressing the Comte de 
 St. Sevron, who was also intently watching the 
 tete-a-tete between Greville and Madame de 
 Rostanges. 
 
 /' Not yet, I trust ! — The day is so charming, 
 that I am in no hurry to quit this exquisite 
 pelouse for a stuffy salle a manger^ — even at the 
 invitation of a supreme de volaille /" — replied the 
 Count, — one of the most polished epicureans 
 of the Carlist set. 
 
 " But one can enjoy nothing in the midst 
 of this cohue /'' — drawled Massingberd, glancing 
 contemptuously towards a group of singularly 
 beautiful but singularly ill-dressed English girls, 
 of whom he dreaded being supposed an ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 *' Pardon me, — the cohue itself charms me !" 
 interposed the cool St. Sevron, who held in ab- 
 horrence the slang and affectation of the would- 
 be fine young English gentleman. *' I adore
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 241 
 
 new faces, particularly when so lovely as those 
 we look on." 
 
 '' But what a different set of people one saw- 
 last night at Madame de St. Pierre's !" — per- 
 sisted Fred, with a contemptuous smile. 
 
 " Different indeed ! But as Madame de St. 
 Pierre's salle de hal contained only those whom 
 I have met in every salle de hal since January, 
 it is a relief to see something new." 
 
 *' I should have thought that there were per- 
 sons here, however, my dear Count," said La 
 Roche Aymar, joining in the conversation, and 
 looking towards the pretty but vulgar wife of 
 one of the cabinet ministers, " with whom you 
 were not particularly pleased to find yourself in 
 contact." 
 
 " Mon cher Albert ! — for what do you take 
 me?" — replied the philosophical St. Sevron. " I 
 may oppose a man in the Chamber, or object to 
 receive him at my table, whom I am as well 
 content to meet at an assembly, especially a 
 diplomatic one, (which is scarcely accountable 
 for its constituents,) as if walking on the Boule- 
 varts or in ihefo7/er of the opera." 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 '* Still I confess I have no taste for running 
 my head against persons whose names are so unsa- 
 tisfactorily known to me in their public capa- 
 city," resumed La Roche Ayraar. 
 
 " Or against the ilUbred noisy clique of the 
 Chaussee d'Antin," added Fred Massingberd, 
 directing his sneers against a group of very 
 pretty women in a somewhat peculiar costume. 
 " Voild,je croiSf la compagnie des lionnes." 
 
 '' Fie on such sweeping clauses !" — interrupted 
 St. Sevron. " Nothing so unfair as to attempt 
 to damn by an epithet, or so absurd as to classify 
 men or women, as you would vegetables or fossils. 
 Of those to whom Monsieur de Masanbert is 
 alluding, no two are the least alike in character 
 or pursuits. Li' esprit de coterie engendered by 
 our weekly receptions, naturally produces inti- 
 macy and similarity of dress and manners, among 
 persons frequently re-united. But it is cruel 
 to opprobriate them with a collective name, 
 which is sure to render the class thus distin- 
 guished unpopular and ridiculous." 
 
 " I am beginning to suspect you of lionism, 
 mon cker St.SevronT^- — cried Albert de La Roche
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 243 
 
 Aymar, apprehensive that the English dandy 
 might fancy himself preached at. " With whom 
 are you accouple, pray ? — Is your lionne a smoker 
 of cigars or papelitos ? — Does she sup au cabaret 
 with you, or only dine? — Do you pass your 
 evenings with her at the concert of the Chalet, 
 or stick to the publicity of Franconi's?" — 
 
 " Depend upon it, he sticks at nothing !" 
 cried Massingberd, delighted at this mystification 
 of the man he wanted courage to attack. 
 
 '« You do me too much honour," observed 
 St. Sevron, in his former dry tone. '* The only 
 woman in Paris for whose bright eyes I feel 
 disposed to play the fool, has never been pro- 
 moted even by the most mischievous of the silly 
 old women by whom such scandals are easily 
 concocted, to the distinction of being a lionne. 
 The sole fault of which I ever heard her accused, 
 and that but recently, (Monsieur de Masanbert 
 daignera me pardonner ! — ) is that of a too par- 
 tial Anglomania." 
 
 «' Madame de Rostanges for a thousand, — " 
 cried Fred and La Roche Aymar at the same 
 moment. But all further observation was 
 M 2
 
 244 greville; or, 
 
 checked on perceiving that their exclamation 
 had caught the ear of Mademoiselle de Nangis ; 
 who, leaning on the arm of her brother-in-law, 
 with her dark eyes full of mournful earnestness, 
 stood in silent contemplation of the scene. 
 
 At that moment, the well-known national air, 
 which forms for many the chef (Toeuvre of the 
 ars musical — 
 
 Oh ! the roast beef of old England ! 
 
 resounded on the lawn. Every one began in- 
 stantly to hurry through the conservatories 
 towards the gallery; where, amid embowering 
 orange-trees, was served a magnificent banquet. 
 
 " Let us wait for Sophie !" said Mademoiselle 
 de Nangis, detaining the Marquis, while Albert 
 the Parisian Lucullus, and Fred the Epicurus 
 of St. James's Street, pressed past them, with 
 more eagerness than gallantry, to the feast. 
 
 " No, no ! — Lord Greville will take the best 
 care of her; she is safe and happy with Gre- 
 ville !" replied Monsieur de Rostanges, urging 
 her on, — ^* Depedions nous, or I cannot answer, 
 my dear Eugenie, for finding you a place."
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 245 
 
 Monsieur de St. Sevron, however, remained 
 stationary, till the pink hawthorn tree yielded up 
 the occupants of the bench almost hidden under 
 its drooping branches; and when, by the in- 
 terest of Lord Greville, a small table was appor- 
 tioned to Madame de Rostanges in a nook 
 surrounded by orange trees, the Count gliding 
 silently in, possessed himself of a vacant place 
 by her side. 
 
 " Ou il y a manger pour deux, il y a manger 
 pour trois /" — said he, quietly unfolding his 
 napkin. " I congratulate myself, chere Marquise, 
 on the chance which has procured me a position 
 so envied. — Dieu ! que nous sommes Men ici ! — 
 Monsieur de Grevile ! they are inquiring whe- 
 ther you take soup." —
 
 246 GREVILLE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 La societe est composee de deux classes ; ceux qui ont 
 plus de diners que d'appetit, et ceux qui ont plus d'appetit 
 que de diners. II s'agit de la premiere. 
 
 L'Abbe Galiani. 
 
 It is scarcely to be supposed that a man of 
 the world, a man of the Parisian world, such as 
 the Comte Tristan de St. Sevron, would have 
 made so open a demonstration in favour of the 
 Marquise de Rostanges, had his sentiments been 
 of the nature inferred by Massingberd and his 
 companion. 
 
 The motives prompting him to intrude so 
 officiously upon the tete-a-tete arranged by Lord 
 Greville were of a better nature ; a nature in-
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 247 
 
 spiring him with honest satisfaction when he 
 found that his presence, instead of being re- 
 sented by the Marchioness, was hailed as an 
 acquisition. 
 
 St. Sevron, though an epicurean in fiis philo- 
 sophy, was a man of the nicest honour and most 
 amiable disposition. Clever, caustic, but re- 
 straining his sallies by the tact of sound good 
 sense, it had long been his ambition to obtain 
 the hand of the charming sister-in-law of his 
 friend and country neighbour the Marquis de 
 Rostanges. But Eugenie gave no encourage- 
 ment to his suit, — no indication of relenting in 
 his favour. Rostan":es could make nothino- of 
 the affair. He, who at sixty years of age was 
 happy in the affections of a wife of twenty, could 
 scarcely credit the assertion of St. Sevron that 
 Mademoiselle de Nangis, at seventeen, consi- 
 dered a man of forty too old for her. But he 
 was forced to admit that he foresaw no chance 
 of a change in her decision against his friend. 
 
 But although thus baffled in his purpose, 
 St. Sevron was not to be shaken in his attach- 
 ment. He loved the beautiful and gifted
 
 248 greville; or, 
 
 Eugenie with all the fervour of a boy, all the 
 steadiness of a man ; — nay, he even loved her 
 sister for her sake. There was as much in the 
 impetuosity of character of Mademoiselle de 
 Nangis to excite anxiety on her account, as in 
 her charms and talents to command admiration. 
 He feared that her destiny might become a 
 stormy one. He foresaw that she was not fated 
 to be happy ; and though his happiness was a 
 matter of avowed indifference to her, he felt 
 that, whatever the fortunes of Eugenie, — even 
 if affianced to another, — even if the wife of an- 
 other, — she must still remain an object of para- 
 mount interest to himself 
 
 His intimacy with the family fortunately en- 
 abled him to attain some insight into her en- 
 gagements. At Les Etangs, he was throughout 
 the summer a welcome guest, — in Paris, they 
 frequented the same society ; and though the 
 journey to Italy was an unexpected trial, he 
 had the happiness of welcoming her back still 
 free, and beautiful and captivating as ever. 
 
 For a moment, the rumour that Lord Greville, 
 the Englishman now so closely attached to the
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 249 
 
 Hotel de Rostanges, was there as the accepted 
 lover of Eugenie, excited his serious alarm. 
 But even love could not blind the clear percep- 
 tions of St. Sevron. He soon discerned the 
 truth ; and the truth inflicted almost as much 
 pain as his original supposition, for he saw in it 
 a source of shame and disquietude for her he 
 loved. The happiness of Eugenie was bound 
 up in the well-being of her sister ; and he con- 
 sequently beheld in the attentions of the hand- 
 some young English lord all that was most 
 to be dreaded for the peace of the family. 
 
 Such was St. Sevron's motive for affecting a 
 tender interest for the fair Sophie, in presence 
 of those who, he knew, would not venture to 
 breathe dishonouring rumours concerning a 
 woman distinguished by his affection. Familiar, 
 too familiar, with the habits of the loungers 
 of the clubs, he dreaded lest they should ac- 
 quire the habit of coupling together the names 
 of Greville and Madame de Rostanges. He 
 knew that a stain of this description once 
 incurred, is never effaced ; and that the scandal 
 could not fail to reach in time the ears of the 
 m3
 
 250 greville; or, 
 
 sensitive Marquis, and still more sensitive 
 Eugenie. 
 
 '' Neither La Roche Aymar, nor Cerny, nor 
 that freluquet of an Englishman, will venture to 
 say a syllable against a woman dear to one so 
 high in authority as myself among the veterans 
 of dandyism !" — was his secret reflection during 
 the scene upon the lawn. " I must now prevent 
 this* young fellow from pursuing his advantages 
 over the good and guileless Sophie, and the 
 idlers here from noticing his indiscreet atten- 
 tion." And with this view, he took the forbidden 
 seat by her side. 
 
 " Where have my sister and Rostanges 
 placed themselves?" was Madame de Rostanges's 
 first inquiry of St. Sevron, whose affection for 
 Eugenie, and friendship with her husband, 
 seemed to place him almost on the terms of a 
 relation. " I lost sight of them the moment 
 we entered the gardens." 
 
 " They did not lose sight of yow," replied the 
 Count, calmly. '* We all stood together ad- 
 jniring your picturesque attitude just now under 
 the hawthorn tree."
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 251 
 
 " Then why not wait and accompany us in to 
 breakfast ? — I am convinced they have not found 
 so eligible a place as this !" — cried Madame de 
 Rostanges. 
 
 ^' Mademoiselle de Nangis is with Madame 
 de St. Pierre, and Rostanges at no great dis- 
 tance," replied the Count, addressing this piece 
 of information ostensibly to the lady, in reality 
 to Lord Greville. *• But since they have de- 
 serted us, let us forget them ! and drown our 
 sense of ill-usage in a glass of sherry," — he 
 continued, now pointedly addressing the Earl. 
 '• Here, in the head-quarters of Anglicism, one 
 may venture on such a potation." 
 
 Lord Greville could not refuse. But he 
 bowed with a countenance worthy of Sir James 
 Cobham ; nor was it till nearly half an hour had 
 elapsed, that St. Sevron's easy flow of conver- 
 sation, called forth into unusual vivacity by the 
 unfeigned pleasure taken by Madame de Ros- 
 tanges in his society, succeeded in conquering 
 his ill-humour. 
 
 '* I entreat you, do not believe half that 
 Monsieur de St. Sevron will tell you about
 
 252 greville; or, 
 
 us !" cried she, addressing Greville, at the close 
 of one of the Count's ironical sallies against the 
 Faubourg. «* He is always devising treasons 
 against the fair fame of the society of Paris." 
 
 " Pardon me, — I have the greatest respect 
 for the society of Paris," — replied St. Sevron, 
 gravely. ''The only fault I find with it is that 
 it does not sufficiently respect itself. Free trade 
 is a fine thing ; but we really sell ourselves too 
 cheap. No people on earth are to be had on 
 such easy terms." 
 
 " Yet the other day you were protesting that, 
 since the Madeleine seemed so much to seek in 
 a divinity for its shrines, (having been succes- 
 sively destined to become an opera-house,— a 
 temple of glory, — and a Christian church,) we 
 could not do better than dedicate it to the 
 worship of the golden calf, — the reigning idol of 
 the nation." 
 
 " I think so still, my dear Marquise,---! 
 think so still !" — cried St. Sevron. " Even you, 
 by right of sex an opponent of all rational 
 propositions, will allow that gold rules the court, 
 the camp, the grove, from one end of our city
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 253 
 
 to the other. Ask yourself, for instance, — and 
 to yourself at least be candid in reply, — to 
 whom the lowest of Madame de St. Pierre's 
 curtsies were last night addressed ! — To names 
 renowned in history, — to names illustrated by 
 living talent, or eminent merit? — No, no ! — The 
 place of honour is assigned among us to wealthy 
 foreigners, — to people who have bought their 
 way into our society, — whose fortunes like 
 mushrooms, sprang from the dirtiest origin, — 
 and whose " 
 
 " You forget that you are talking in presence 
 of a wealthy foreigner," — interrupted Madame 
 de Rostanges, blushing deeply. 
 
 " Of course I do ; for howbeit unskilled in 
 English history, ancient or modern, I know just 
 enouirh to class Lord Greville among those 
 illustrated by the records of past centuries as 
 well as by merits of his own," said St. Sevron, 
 courteously. " Moreover, lady fair, your evasion 
 shews consciousness of guilt. You know full 
 well that I allude only to those resident 
 foreigners, who dazzle us with their fetes and 
 tyrannize over us by their impertinence."
 
 254 greville; ok, 
 
 «' I admit that well-directed hospitality 
 (admire the cunning of the phrase !) is not 
 without its influence among us," replied the 
 Marquise ; '« especially if exercised by pretty 
 women, or men of gentlemanly address. But 
 let no foreign adventurer thence imply that we 
 are to be purchased by gold by itself, gold. 
 Mere money will not suffice." — 
 
 *' Jt must be of a different complexion from 
 any I have seen offered as a bribe to the door- 
 keepers of la bonne campagnie, if it meet witli 
 rejection !" — cried Monsieur de St. Sevron. 
 *' Perhaps we are right. We are a nation in 
 modest circumstances. Paris has too much gild- 
 ing and or mouluy and too many fine ladies, to 
 admit of the cultivation of Spartan virtue." 
 
 " The black broth would scarcely, I fear, go 
 down after this excellent potage a la Reine," 
 observed Lord Greville. 
 
 " Let the world swallow its potage a la Reine, 
 and welcome," cried St. Sevron ; — *' nay, let it 
 say grace afterwards to its divinity, the golden 
 calf, — but not pretend meanwhile to maintain a 
 purer worship !" —
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 255 
 
 '•' Hypocrisy is said to be the homage rendered 
 by vice to virtue," persisted Greville, amused by 
 his earnestness. 
 
 " Like other tribute money, then, it should 
 bear the image and superscription of its Caesar!" 
 — cried St. Sevron. '« Admire, I beseech you, 
 the outcry raised among us against the absence 
 of blood and birth, in persons recently raised to 
 public distinction by their energy and talent ; 
 (I may differ from them in principle, but I 
 admit their energy and talent;) while in these 
 foreign millionnaires, whose sole merit consists 
 in their credit with Rothschild, the self-same 
 sins of pedigree, nay, blemishes still more flagrant, 
 are boldly winked at !" — 
 
 " Did I not tell you quHl cassait les vitres a 
 tout le monde ?"' — cried Madame de Rostanges. 
 '* To look at Monsieur de St. Sevron, loho 
 would imagine that his quiet manners and petite 
 voixjiutee were conveying such bitter truths !" 
 
 " ' La raison, avec son petit filet de voix /' '* 
 said Lord Greville, quoting from Moliere. 
 '* Monsieur de St. Sevron would find very 
 different grounds for his diatribes in my own 
 country. We English, though reviled by the
 
 256 greville; or, 
 
 Continent as a nation of shopkeepers, are, next 
 to the Americans, the most infatuated worship- 
 pers on earth of rank and titles." 
 
 " I have heard you taxed with love of titu- 
 larity," answered the Count, pleased to find 
 him relaxing in his reserve. '* But I never knew 
 you accused of selling your good word for thirty 
 pieces of silver." 
 
 " Because money is a drug among us," replied 
 the Earl. " Higher importance is attached to 
 aristocratic distinction." 
 
 " Perhaps because aristocratic distinction is 
 conceded by your government to the claims of 
 merit," said St. Sevron, courteously. " Your 
 legists, your statesmen, your warriors, — " 
 
 «' Are ennobled it is true,— but it is only in 
 their posterity their ennoblement is honoured," 
 rejoined Greville. " It reflects little credit upon 
 our national feeling, that a man of humble origin 
 attaining chivalric distinctions, is pursued his 
 whole life long with covert insults; while his 
 children, devoid perhaps of all that raised him 
 to the peerage, are in the next generation hailed 
 as of noble birth." 
 
 " Well, well ! — Rochefoucault swears that we
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 257 
 
 derive comfort from the misfortunes of our neigh- 
 hours ; and I own it affords me consolation to 
 hear of their follies !" cried St. Sevron. '* I had 
 thought you a wiser people, my dear lord. I 
 fancied that Bacon yesterday, and Brougham 
 to-day—" 
 
 *« Brougham ?'* interrupted Greville, with a 
 smile. 
 
 " Lyndhurst then, if you like it better. By 
 your adoption in the Faubourg, I infer you to 
 be a Conservative ?" — 
 
 '* A Whig, according to the interpretation of 
 the last century, which implies a Tory in the 
 parlance of the present," replied Lord Greville. 
 " I have, however, at present, no right to call 
 myself anything. Deeds, not words, constitute 
 the politician ; and I have not yet claimed an 
 existence for myself within the walls of parlia- 
 ment." 
 
 The Comte de St. Sevron, accustomed to 
 the proscription which closes the French chamber 
 against the political aspirant till the age of thirty, 
 and to the national jactancy which renders the 
 embryo Sallys and Colberts awaiting their ad-
 
 258 GREVILLE; OR, 
 
 mittance, the most self- asserting of politicians, 
 was pleased with the modesty of the young 
 peer. 
 
 " In our country," he replied, " words, rather 
 than deeds, seem to constitute the politician. 
 You will hear us talk codes, protocols, speeches 
 from the throne, — we are never silent, in short, 
 till our opinion is asked by the country. Not 
 one of us but knows everything! — Cerny, yon- 
 der, (who stands wondering at your patience with 
 my prose,) because admitted into the hunting 
 stables of the prince royal, affects to acquaint 
 you with the most secret mysteries of the royal 
 cabinet — comme si on connaissaitle palais, pour en 
 avoir visiteles latrines! — While our friend Roche 
 Aymar, because he reads the Charivari, fancies 
 himself intitled to accuse of crimes worthy the 
 galleys, a minister who, if a villanous politician 
 and vulgar fellow, is a highly amiable man, — a 
 man whose kindness of heart equals the shrewd- 
 ness of his head." 
 
 " I see you are veering round towards the 
 cote gauche P^ — exclaimed the Marquise. " I have 
 often told you that it would one day be the
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 259 
 
 ofl5ce of Monsieur de Rostanges to lead you to 
 the foot of the throne." 
 
 " That would scarcely demonstrate my libe- 
 ralism !" cried St. Sevron, laughing. " I look 
 upon Louis Philippe as the leading conservative 
 of Europe. Louis Philippe, if not my lawful 
 sovereign, is at least the head of my party. 
 It seems the property of a gilded fauteuU 
 overhung by a regal canopy, to communicate 
 the true monarchical feeling. As the tripod 
 inspired the Pythoness, the throne inspires 
 autocratism. Don't talk to me of your constitu- 
 tional governments ! The English, (as one of 
 our wise ones says,) the English are the only 
 people under the sun who have discovered the 
 art of limiting the powers of a man whose face 
 figures upon half-a-crown — " 
 
 " And consequently, under a whole one," 
 added Madame de Rostanges, laughing. 
 
 " I have as little doubt that Louis Philippe, 
 Duke of Orleans, was a liberal, as that Louis 
 Philippe, King of France, has become a con- 
 servative," observed Lord Greville. ^' Expe-
 
 •260 greville; or. 
 
 Hence, which enlightens individuals, is said to 
 darken the minds of princes ; but as kings, 
 like the engine-drivers on a railway, are the 
 first to suffer by any rash acceleration of speed, 
 — we cannot wonder that they look anxiously 
 to the safety-valve." 
 
 '^ Moving already ?*' — cried the Comte de St. 
 Sevron to Madame de Rostanges. " I fear we 
 have^ frightened you away by the gravity of our 
 discussions ?" — 
 
 " On the contrary, you have almost made me 
 overlook the fact that I have not only finished 
 breakfast these five minutes, but that I am nearly 
 the last lady in the room !" she replied, peeping 
 through the branches of the orange trees to- 
 wards the gallery, now almost exclusively filled 
 with Englishmen, lingering over their wine 
 after the French cavaliers had hurried towards 
 the dancing-room. 
 
 Little did Sophie conjecture, as she inquired 
 of Lord Greville on whose arm she now fol- 
 lowed the throng, whether he did not find 
 Monsieur de St. Sevron very agreeable, that
 
 A SEASON IN PARTS. 261 
 
 the sole object of his chattiness at table was to 
 prevent a more intimate conversation between 
 herself and her companion. But he had suc- 
 ceeded. All hope of such an enjoyment was 
 at an end. Greville had already noticed with 
 wonder, the familiarity existing between French- 
 women of the same set, — a sort of girlish 
 camaraderie de convent which would be held 
 unmatronly among his own countrywomen. 
 Mademoiselle de Nangis and Sidonie de Chau- 
 lieu might have been excused, he thought, for 
 giggling together concerning the delinquencies 
 of their mantuamakers or partners, their sad- 
 dle-horses or lapdogs. But Eugenie and her 
 friend were still subjected to the demureness 
 of French young ladyism ; and it was the 
 Duchesse de St. Pierre, the Comtesse Jules de 
 la Roche Aymar, and others of the Uonne tribe, 
 who now crowded round Madame de Rostanges, 
 besetting her with idle questions or stories with- 
 out an end, setting at nought that important 
 branch of eloquence, Vart de la parentliese. 
 
 " What an exquisite bouquet !" cried Ma- 
 dame de St. Pierre, suddenly seizing and ex-
 
 262 greville; or, 
 
 amining the nosegay of her cousin, as they all 
 stood together at the extremity of the lawn, 
 over which the shades of a delicious summer 
 twilight were now gathering. " Madame Adde, 
 I perceive ! — Mais depuis quelque temps ma chere 
 tu donnes terrihlement dans les gardenias ? — Cette 
 honne Madame Adde pretend meme que tu en as 
 fait liausser le prix courant /" 
 
 *' Yes, — Eugenie and I are passionately fond 
 of them," replied Madame de Rostanges. 
 
 " But I did not perceive any in your sister's 
 bouquet ?" — observed the provoking Madame 
 de St. Pierre. 
 
 " She had perhaps removed them, knowing 
 that the Marquis dislikes their scent," replied 
 Sophie, who had not noticed any difference be- 
 tween the two bouquets presented by Lord 
 Greville. Yet Greville, who, though engaged in 
 conversation with Madame de la Roche Aymar 
 heard every word that was passing, flattered 
 himself the evasion was intentional, and that a 
 secret understanding existed between himself 
 and the pure-minded Sophie ! 
 
 He was startled, however, to perceive that his
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 263 
 
 attentions had excited the notice of Madame de 
 St. Pierre, — a woman who, though correct in 
 her conduct, or perhaps, under cover of that 
 very virtue, permitted herself unlimited licence 
 of speech. Greville felt assured that the young 
 Duchesse would rejoice in an opportunity of 
 opening upon her gentler cousin a battery of 
 raillery, in return for the remonstrances of 
 Madame de Rostanges touching her own wild 
 feats of smoking cigars in the Bois de Boulogne, 
 winning wagers of Albert de la Roche Aymar 
 by leaping its fences, and other extravagances 
 of a similar kind. 
 
 He felt that he must keep watch over himself. 
 His dearest hopes would be frustrated if any 
 imprudence on his own part, any ill-nature on 
 that of the world, should interfere with his visit 
 to Normandy. At present, the invitation had 
 not been so seriously given by the Marquis as 
 to constitute an engagement. He resolved, 
 therefore, instead of lingering by the side of 
 Madame de Rostanges through the evening, to 
 bestow his attentions elsewhere. 
 
 But in what quarter ?— With all others than
 
 264 greville; or, 
 
 Eugenie and her sister, his habitual shyness still 
 prevailed. He had been at no pains to extend 
 his intimacies in Paris. The vivacity of les 
 lionnes overpowered, — the affectation of les lions 
 disgusted him. In the one besetting interest, 
 all others had been neglected. The stars of the 
 diplomatic galaxy shone in vain before him; — 
 the official authorities stood conversing in groups 
 which he had no sanction to join. He had 
 sought introductions to no one ; beguiled by the 
 charm of female society into sauntering away 
 his hours in a city wherein are concentrated 
 such active impulses of human intelligence. 
 
 '* Here comes your Mephistopheles !" — whis- 
 pered Monsieur de St. Sevron, beside whom he 
 found himself standing at the end of the gallery, 
 now lighted up for the evening, and crowded 
 with dancers. 
 
 '* My Mephistopheles ?" — reiterated Lord 
 Greville, looking inquiringly round, as if for 
 an explanation. 
 
 *' You need not glance so suspiciously towards 
 poor Esperance !" cried the Count, laughing. 
 " Do not fall into the vulgar error of fancying
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 265 
 
 that the tempter of our times must needs be old. 
 Had Mephistophiles really worn the impish coun- 
 tenance assigned him by the piquant hurin of 
 Retsch, do you think a clever fellow like Faust 
 would have fallen into his toils ? — No, no ! — the 
 wolf in sheep's clothing of the old fable is still 
 the most fatal of all loupgaroux ; and the devil 
 of to-day is consequently a devilish good fellow, 
 — his hairy tail coiled up under a coat made by 
 Blin, and his cloven feet concealed in pumps 
 resplendent with patent varnish. — Le voild /" — 
 he continued, pointing to Fred Massingberd, 
 who was just then approaching, with Lady 
 Cobham on his arm. — " As I told you, here 
 comes your Mephistophiles !" — 
 
 " And my Margaret ?" — inquired Lord Gre- 
 ville, with a smile. — 
 
 «*I am not so sure," replied St. Sevron. — 
 " She looks, however, innocent enough to be a 
 temptress !" 
 
 *« Innocent, indeed!" — murmured Greville, 
 shrusro^ins his shoulders as he recalled to mind 
 the inanity of poor Julia's conversation. At 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 greville; or, 
 
 that moment, nevertheless, he felt her arrival to 
 be a relief. 
 
 " I understood that, on account of your 
 journey, you had renounced all thoughts of 
 coming here ?" said Greville,. hastening forward 
 to accost her. 
 
 *' We do not go to-morrow. There was some 
 mistake about the passport ; and Sir James con- 
 ceived that under such circumstances, our 
 absence from the fete of our Ambassador might 
 be considered extraordinary. It was too late, 
 when the discovery was made, to come to the 
 breakfast. Lady Greville, indeed, tried to per- 
 suade us it was scarcely worth while to come 
 to the ball ; and I am so tired with the plea- 
 sures of last night, and the plague of sight- 
 seeing of this morning, as to be quite of her 
 opinion. I told Sir James so, — but he would 
 insist upon my coming !" 
 
 Recollecting his contradictions of the morn- 
 ing, Lord Greville could readily understand this 
 arbitrary exercise of authority on the part of the 
 country baronet.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 267 
 
 " Cobham accompanied you, at least ?"— he 
 inquired, with an air of becoming interest. 
 
 " Accompanied her ?"— cried Massingberd, 
 with a look of pity. " I should think so !— Pray 
 when did you ever see a pair of English turtles 
 fly fifty yards apart ?— Luckily for their repu- 
 tation, however, I was near the door when they 
 entered; and undertook the task de conduire 
 Madame into the ball-room. And now, I wish 
 to heavens you would let me make her over to 
 you, Grev, my boy !— I saw whist tables in the 
 small drawing-room, as we passed through ; and 
 as you are not a dancing man, — " 
 
 '^ No need, surely, of an apology V* cried 
 Greville, gallantly offering his arm to Julia, who 
 accepted it with smiling apathy : and it was no 
 small satisfaction to find occupation as the cava- 
 lier of a fair one for whose entertainment it was 
 unnecessary to exercise any excess of intellec- 
 tual effort. 
 
 Lord Greville commenced his duties in the 
 
 truly English fashion of disturbing all the 
 
 arrangements of the ball-room, by conducting 
 
 Lady Cobham through the crowd of dancers 
 
 N 2
 
 268 greville; or, 
 
 from one extremity of the gallery to the other 
 as if in search of a seat; but in reality, that she 
 might enjoy the pleasure of staring and being 
 stared at. Great indeed was the admiration 
 she excited. 
 
 Poor Julia, however, was in no mood to ap- 
 preciate her triumph. She had been scolded all 
 the morning by her husband, and harassed all 
 the evening by her nurses ; receiving hints from 
 the one that she was an indifferent wife, and 
 from the other that she was an indifferent 
 mother ; and while the tribe of Ebsworths, 
 Macmichaels, and other English misses, thought 
 her a very happy woman to be Lady Cobham, 
 to possess such quantities of diamonds, and the 
 escort of a handsome young lord, Julia con- 
 sidered herself only so far fortunate that her 
 headache and heartache did not relieve them- 
 selves in a burst of tears. 
 
 " I am sadly afraid Lord Greville is a dread- 
 ful flirt!" — whispered one of the elderly spmster 
 daughters of the Marquis of Droneham, Lady 
 Maria Dronely, to her sister Lfidy Jane, as 
 they sat partnerless, primly intent upon the
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 269 
 
 ball. •* We must be careful not to say any- 
 thing about it to his mother ; but I watched him 
 hid all dinner-time in a corner among the 
 orange trees, with a very pretty Frenchwoman, 
 (who, no doubt, was like all Frenchwomen, no 
 better than she should be.) And now, just 
 look at him, whispering to Lady Cobham !— I 
 don't say that there is any positive harm in 
 Lady Cobham, but she is a very giddy young 
 person !" 
 
 " Giddy, indeed !" — retorted Lady Jane, 
 shaking her head. " What is she doing here 
 at all? — Lady Greville would not hear of 
 coming ! — They are all to start for England in 
 the morning, and are to make only a day on the 
 road." 
 
 " A day on the road ? — and with two ailing 
 children ? — You may well call her giddy !" re- 
 torted Lady Maria, though she knew that poor 
 Julia, from the hour of her marriage, had never 
 exercised a choice in the smallest of her domestic 
 arrangements. '' There, my dear, just look at 
 them ! — Poor Sir James !" — 
 
 «* How shameful of that young coxcomb of a
 
 270 greville; or, 
 
 Mr. Massingberd, not to take better care of his 
 sister," said Lady Jane. " Husbands are pro- 
 verbially blind, — but the brother must see what 
 is going on." 
 
 " He sees nothing but his cards, my dear ! — I 
 left him just now, as usual, betting away at 
 whist." 
 
 " I declare I should not be surprised if they 
 werje going to dance !" whispered Lady Maria, 
 as if announcing an act of the greatest turpitude. 
 "Lady Cobham, with her young family, dan- 
 cing ! — waltzing, perhaps ! — Good heavens ! — 
 what a pity that Sir James Cobham is not aware 
 of what is going on !" — 
 
 " I don't think they are going to dance," ob- 
 served Lady Jane, in the same mysterious whis- 
 per, '• because I remember that at Naples, Lady 
 Greville wished her son to ask me at that last 
 Accademia ball, and he excused himself as not 
 knowing the figures of a quadrille." 
 
 " Ah! my dear ! — Consider what he has been 
 through since, poor young man ; a month at 
 Paris with that libertine Mr. Massingberd. 
 Depend on it he knows how to waltz, and every
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 271 
 
 thing else that is bad, by this time. Lady Gre- 
 ville is likely to have a sad time of it !" 
 
 *' Well, there is some little excuse to be made 
 for him," sighed Lady Jane, in a sentimental 
 tone. •' He is the handsomest man in the room, 
 the handsomest man, / think, I ever saw. And, 
 after all, young men will be young men ! — " 
 
 Considering that, in their own case, old 
 women chose to be young ones, this was not al- 
 lowing much. 
 
 *' Surely," cried Lady Maria, in pretended 
 consternation, " Surely, my dear, that is Sir 
 James Cobham peeping in through the conserva- 
 tory door, near the orchestra?" — 
 
 " To be sure it is, — and with a face as black 
 as thunder !" cried her sister. " I sincerely hope 
 he wont happen to see them. Only look at 
 them now, — chatting and whispering together 
 with the utmost unconcern." 
 
 " Ah ! poor young creature ! — I feel for her 
 parents," ejaculated Lady Maria. *' Mrs. Mas- 
 singberd, though rather tiresome, is an excellent 
 woman, and the father a most inoffensive man. 
 Do you see Sir James Cobham still, my dear 
 Jane?"
 
 272 greville; or, 
 
 *' No, my dear; he has disappeared. He is 
 perhaps coming round through the conservatory 
 to pounce upon them. I am afraid he will 
 hardly get through that phalanx of French- 
 women at the upper door. How stupid it is of 
 people to stand encumbering doorways in that 
 sort of way. — Ah ! there he is again. — See how 
 he is trying to make his way !- But it wont do ! 
 — Nothing so disobliging as the French, unless 
 for a person in their own set. — The lionnes are 
 all gossipping together in a mass, you see ; and 
 don't pay the smallest attention to Sir James 
 Cobham !"— 
 
 " Who would, that could help it!" was the in- 
 voluntary rejoinder of Lady Maria. '' How 
 very hot and cross he looks. — Ah ! now for a 
 scene ! — He has got into the room at last, — but 
 what has become of his wife and Lord Gre- 
 ville?"— 
 
 *^ They must have glided through the dancers, 
 and made their way out through the throne 
 room !" cried Lady Jane. '' What cunning ! — 
 Sir James may be an hour now without discover- 
 ing them ! — There are so many ins and outs, 
 and short cuts in this house, to say nothing of
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 273 
 
 the gardens, that I defy you to find anybody 
 who does not wish to be found." 
 
 '* It would really be a mercy to that poor 
 young creature if we were to give him a hint 
 which way she is gone !" said Lady Maria, in a 
 hypocritical whine. 
 
 '' It certainly would be the best thing for her. 
 But if he were to call out Lord Greville, — think 
 of poor dear Lady Greville ! — At all events, let 
 us follow, and see the end of it. — What a shock- 
 ing affair! — Foreign example, eh? — See the 
 result of coming abroad !" 
 
 Thus trivial is the origin of half the idle 
 scandals current in society ! — But does not the 
 arrow conveying danger and death derive its 
 mischief from two worthless feathers ? — 
 
 n3
 
 274 greville; or, 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 II y a dans le cerveau des femraes une case de moins, et 
 dans leur cceur un fibre de plus que chez les hommes. 
 
 Champfort. 
 
 On the following day, as on the day succeed- 
 ing any fete of considerable magnitude, nothing 
 was talked of in Paris but the details of the ex- 
 quisite dejeuner of Tambassadrice d'Angleterre. 
 All those who were present protested, and all 
 those who were less fortunate admitted on their 
 shewing, that never had there been an entertain- 
 ment so unexceptionable. 
 
 " Je ne sais pas, II me semhle quHl y manquait 
 quelque chose /" observed Madame Jules de La
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 275 
 
 Roche Aymar, who happened to form one of a 
 numerous circle sitting in judgment upon the 
 affair, in the salon of the Hotel de Rostanges. 
 
 '' And what, 1 beseech you?"— cried her hus- 
 band. '' Qiie diahle ! II y avait des petits pois 
 tant qu^on en voulait ; — there were strawberries, 
 pine-apples, and — " 
 
 " // me semble pourtant quHil y manquait quel- 
 que chose /" — persisted Madame Jules, glancing 
 at Madame de Rostanges, beside whose chair 
 the place usually occupied by Lord Greville 
 was vacant. 
 
 " For my part," cried Madame de St. Pierre, 
 '* I never spent a pleasanter day. My yellow 
 lilies were not the least faded when I returned 
 home at night; and we had two charming 
 mazourks." 
 
 '' Yes, to the great dissatisfaction of the Eng- 
 lish ladies, I can tell you !" interrupted the old 
 Princess de Chaulieu. '* The English ladies 
 declared, in the first place, that for worlds they 
 would not dance such a dance, or make such 
 an exhibition ; — in the next place, that none of 
 you had the slightest notion of a mazourk, and
 
 276 greville; or, 
 
 were making sad geese of yourselves;— -and, in 
 the third place, that they had never seen it be- 
 fore, and had not the least idea how it ought to 
 be danced. — Monsieur de Cerny protests, you 
 say, that he often saw it performed in England? 
 — Ay, I dare say, — on the stage, — but not in so- 
 ciety, depend upon it ! I spent, — pour mespecheSy 
 — nearly twenty years in England. — I married 
 there; — {suW pour mes peches f) I have been at 
 hundreds of balls in London. At the Duchess 
 of Gordon's, — at Devonshire House, in the good 
 old times of Devonshire House, — and I can pro- 
 mise you that there was no mazourk ! — Reels, if 
 you please; reels and country-dances without 
 end, — jogging you to pieces, like farmers' 
 daughters trotting to market, — but no mazourk ! 
 There was the houlangere ! — I dare say, by the 
 way, that Monsieur de Cerny mistook the houlan- 
 gere for the mazourk. — There is some slight re- 
 semblance between them, — eh, Sidonie ?" 
 
 *' I beg your pardon, mamma," said Made- 
 moiselle de Chaulieu, who, like the rest of the 
 world, found some difficulty in following the 
 thread of her mother's rambling discourses.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 277 
 
 " Never mind, my d^ar. You are better en- 
 gaged talking to Mademoiselle de Nangis. Eu- 
 genie, child, when do you set off for Les Etangs? 
 I shall be very glad, mon enfant, to hear that you 
 are gone to Normandy. — You have done your- 
 self no good in Italy. — All your fine bloom is 
 gone. You want the bracing air of the coast ; 
 you want the sea breezes. — No one is the worse 
 now and then for sea breezes. — In Madame's 
 time, poor soul, I accompanied her twice to 
 Dieppe; and should not mind going there again, 
 particularly as it might be an advantage to 
 Sidonie, only that it is so near to Eu ! — One 
 never feels safe, — one never feels sure of not 
 meeting people whom it would be disagreeable 
 to meet. — You think I am almost as near to 
 them in my house in the Rue de Lille ? — Per- 
 haps so ; but en province, one is more exposed ; 
 — en province, one is defenceless. — A partie de 
 campagne ? — Nothing I dote upon like a partie 
 de campagne! — Who is talking about a partie 
 de campagne ?" 
 
 « The Duchess is arranging one with Madame 
 de Rostanges, my dear mamma," replied Sidonie
 
 278 greville; or, 
 
 " And where, }3ray ?" 
 
 *' In the woods of Meudou." 
 
 <' What folly ! — The only place for a partie 
 de campagne at this time of year, is St. Cloud !" 
 cried the Princess. " The lilies of the valley, you 
 know, Euo^enie ! — The whole road is clothed 
 with muguet! Think of a whole road clothed 
 with muguet! Out of bloom ? — the season past? 
 — Nonsense, my dear ! — I saw quantities in the 
 flower-market of the Madeleine not ten days ago. 
 And just on the road from St. Cloud to Ville 
 d'Avray, through the forest, there is a charming 
 green avenue, — dry, sloping, shady, — (parlez 
 moi de fa !) the very thing for a partie de cam- 
 pagne. — Ah ! Eugenie, ma petite chatte ! — it will 
 be the very thing for your pale cheeks ! Better 
 than fifty balls, — better than fifty dejeuners ! 
 I was saying yesterday to Monsieur de St. Sev- 
 ron, that since your return from Italy, you were 
 so altered there was no recognising you. — And 
 to-day you look worse than ever !" — 
 
 '' Not now, mother, that you have brought 
 such a flush of bloom into her cheeks !" cried 
 Mademoiselle de Chaulieu, taking the hand of
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 279 
 
 her friend. " Is anything the matter with you, 
 dearest Eugenie?" whispered she, ashamed of 
 her mother's indelicacy. 
 
 *' Only the fatigue of yesterday's fete." 
 
 " At yesterday's fete, you said you were suffer- 
 ing from the fatigue of Madame de St. Pierre's 
 ball !" 
 
 " And at Madame de St. Pierre's ball, she 
 said she was tired with taking so long a ride !" 
 cried the Princess. 
 
 " In short, you are resolved that I shall be 
 ill, whether I will or no," cried Mademoiselle 
 de Nangis, trying to rally her spirits. " I have, 
 however, I assure you, no ailment; and should 
 this party, this pic-nic, take place, I promise 
 you to be in full bloom, ghostly and bodily." 
 
 It was nevertheless not without cause that 
 Madame de Chaulieu and her daughter found 
 fault with the looks of their young friend. 
 Eugenie, who had arrived in Paris full of spirits, 
 full of excitement, enchanted to find herself 
 once more at home, had suddenly sunk into 
 depression. She was like a person who, after 
 aspiring too high, finds herself suddenly pre-
 
 280 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 cipitated to the ground and crushed by the 
 fall. 
 
 Of the many trials to which women are ex- 
 posed among the ordeals of the great world, few 
 more critical than those which beset them at the 
 age of Mademoiselle de Nangis ; while still in- 
 capacitated by ignorance of the world, and 
 of their own faculties and passions, to struggle 
 with *evil. The principles, however strict, 
 in which they have been reared by teachers 
 and preachers, are precisely such as cannot be 
 brought to bear upon their position. Exposed 
 to assiduities hitherto unfamiliar, to gallantries 
 of look and speech which they scarcely know 
 how to interpret, their fancy is caught, nay, 
 perhaps their affections are engaged, by atten- 
 tions that appear proofs of preference ; but, 
 which, they are afterwards assured by persons 
 better experienced in the ways of the world, 
 " meant nothing." — They are even derided by 
 these older and wiser heads, for having been so 
 weak as to attribute sincerity to men gentle at 
 least in birth, manners, and breeding ! — Mean- 
 while, the fatal seed is sown, to bring forth a
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 281 
 
 plentiful crop of cares, or coquetry. The girl, 
 thus sharply roused from the reveries of a first 
 attachment, becomes either disconsolate, peevish, 
 and infirm of health ; or rash and reckless, 
 prepared to inflict on others the injury sustained 
 by herself. 
 
 It is to avoid this crying evil, that the French 
 have imagined the mariage de convenance. The 
 great improbability, the almost impossibility, 
 that the chances of society should unite in mar- 
 riage persons attracted towards each other by a 
 first mutual choice, first inspired the idea of 
 leaving such selections to the discretion of older 
 heads ; an arrangement modified by the reforms 
 of modern society into a suggestion of selection, 
 to be approved or disapproved by the parties. 
 
 To insure the success of such a system, it is 
 necessary, however, to forestal tlie danger of 
 adverse impressions. Hence, the early mar- 
 riages of the French ; hence, their objection to 
 the introduction of unmarried girls into worldly 
 pastimes. Rarely do they visit a ball-room, — 
 still more rarely a theatre. — The man destined 
 to become their husband, is the first to oiFer
 
 282 greville; or, 
 
 them those attentions which rarely fail to move 
 the feelings of a very young person, instructed 
 to regard the vagaries of choice exercised among 
 ourselves as indelicate and monstrous. The in- 
 fluence of domestic affections, — of a community 
 of interests — of peremptory duties, — completes 
 the charm. And though much may be urged 
 against the wisdom of conventional marriages, 
 yet after examining the domestic history of the 
 higher classes in both countries, more especially 
 when including in the investigation the condi- 
 tion of the single as well as the morality of the 
 married, it will be seen that the question is 
 more nicely balanced than a cursory glance 
 would lead us to suppose. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Nangis, with the enthusiasm 
 of a gifted but unformed mind, revolted by 
 the evils of the system, had become a reformer, 
 to follow the usual fate of reformers, and repent 
 her precipitancy. Without parents or near 
 relations to watch over their happiness, the 
 destinies of Eugenie and her sister were go- 
 verned by a priest-ridden uncle, nearly eighty 
 years of age; who fancied himself providing
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 283 
 
 admirably for poor Sophie in allying her estate 
 with a noble one adjacent to her own, and 
 quartering her arms with the ancient blazon of 
 the house of Rostanges, — the stripling Marquis, 
 and the Marquis of sixty, being alike unimpor- 
 tant in his eyes. 
 
 By this, Eugenie had been disgusted. This 
 abuse of power though fortunate in its results, 
 had determined her to see the world and judge 
 for herself. Her objection to the Comte de St. 
 Sevron was the result of mere waywardness. 
 She had refused him because proposed to her 
 by those in authority over her ; and because 
 resolved to seek in the wide field of society a 
 person whose dispositions were thoroughly con- 
 genial with her own. 
 
 '' I must have intelligence, — I must have in- 
 formation, — I must have figure, — I must have 
 manners, temper, and noble birth. With all 
 the rest I can dispense !" was her declaration to 
 Madame de Rostanges, on occasion of a mar- 
 riage proposed for her by the old Countess of 
 la Roche Aymar with her elder son. 
 
 " I scarcely know what advantages you in-
 
 284 greville; or, 
 
 elude among * all the rest/ my poor child !'* 
 was Sophie's wiser reply. " Every woman is 
 sensible of the advantages of figure, mind, 
 temper, manners and birth, but wisely abates in 
 marriage a trifle of her pretensions. We can- 
 not all draw the great prize, my dearest Eugenie. 
 Let those consider themselves lucky who are not 
 fated to a blank." 
 
 But Eugenie was seventeen. Eugenie would 
 not yet hear of blanks. She was happy with 
 her sister and the kind Marquis. She did not 
 want to marry; and it was difficult to oppose 
 the wishes of one so attached and so beloved. 
 Madame de Rdstanges, accustomed to view in 
 her more gifted sister a superior being, resigned 
 herself without difficulty ; it was only the Mar- 
 quis who shook his head. The Marquis was 
 rich in that worldly wisdom which is better than 
 no wisdom at all ; or, at all events, a valuable 
 resource in the order of society to which he 
 belonged. 
 
 " Eugenie is wrong to set herself up thus 
 early in defiance to the customs of the country," 
 said he. " When people rebel against the yoke
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 285 
 
 of public opinion, it is oftener to fall below the 
 level than to rise above it. The usao-es of a 
 country are the growth of the wisdom of cen- 
 turies." 
 
 " Of the prejudices of centuries !" was the 
 sportive rejoinder of Mademoiselle de Nangis. 
 " Custom makes the Hottentot daub himself with 
 grease. — custom makes the Abyssinian swallow 
 locusts, — and the New Zealander, human flesh. 
 But don't let custom compel me to make a 
 bad wife, my good brother, — whether to your 
 friend Monsieur de St. Sevron, or poor Ferdi- 
 nand de La Roche Aymar, or even to our free 
 and easy kinsman, Colonel d'Aramon." 
 
 Such was the state of her feelings on depart- 
 ing for Italy ; and though the high Carlist 
 circles of Rome afforded several suitors who 
 were pronounced by her brother-in-law to be 
 suitable matches, Eugenie persisted in her fas- 
 tidiousness. Her deportment in society was 
 unexceptionable. She encouraged no one ; she 
 gave her attention to no one. The Marquis 
 was the companion in whom she seemed to take 
 delio-ht: and her exemplary care of his comfort
 
 286 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 from the moment his health became impaired, 
 was such as not only to call forth the gratitude 
 of her sister, but to render them thankful for 
 the peculiarities of opinion which still assigned 
 them so charming an inmate. Perfect confi- 
 dence, — confidence without a drawback, — pre- 
 vailed between the sisters ; who, notwithstanding 
 their utter difference of character, were united 
 like night and day, by imperceptible gradations 
 of light and shade harmonizing them into happy 
 combination. 
 
 Thus stood affairs when they quitted France ; 
 thus stood affairs when again they crossed the 
 frontier. Of the three so overjoyed to revisit 
 their native country, Eugenie was perhaps the 
 happiest. Her heart was elate with all the 
 bright impulses of girlhood. An unclouded 
 destiny lay before her. She was come, dearer 
 than ever to her family, to be folded to the 
 heart of partial friends, and claim her place 
 in those brilliant circles whose favour was be- 
 spoken by the popularity of Monsieur and 
 Madame de Rostanges. 
 
 Even when they entered the gates of Paris,
 
 A SEASON IX PARIS. 287 
 
 even when they installed themselves in the old 
 Hotel in the Rue St. Dominique, the heart of 
 Mademoiselle de Nangis was under the influ- 
 ence of happy illusions. She believed, — what 
 could be more natural, — that it was to her the 
 attentions of Lord Greville were devoted. She 
 it was, who, at their first meeting, had attracted 
 his notice : she it was to whom, at the Chateau 
 de Grangeneuve, his assiduities were directed. 
 Less timid than her sister, she had been more 
 earnest in her expressions of gratitude for his 
 exertions in their behalf; and the intimacy 
 ensuing had been readily endowed by her in- 
 experience with the attributes of love. 
 
 In the secrecy of her soul, she believed herself 
 to be an object of preference to one singularly 
 accordant with her preconceived notions of per- 
 fection. Person, deportment, temper, talents, 
 were united in Greville. Of all the men she 
 had seen, his air was the most distinguished, — 
 his manner the most ingratiating ; and it did 
 not enter into the calculations of Mademoiselle 
 de Nangis, accustomed to find herself consi- 
 dered a suitable match bv the highest nobles in
 
 288 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 France, that obstacles of birth or fortune could 
 forbid their union. 
 
 There was nothing, in short, to interfere with 
 the destiny in store for her. Happy Eugenie ! 
 to have opposed the habits of her country and 
 the wishes of her friends, to be thus nobly 
 rewarded ! Happy Eugenie ! to have escaped 
 a marriage with Ferdinand de la Roche Ayrnar, 
 whQ could talk of nothing but horses, — and with 
 St. Sevron, severe with the wisdom of twenty 
 years' seniority, — to become the chosen of a being 
 high in birth, high in intellectual endowments,- - 
 and admitted by the universal acclamation of the 
 Faubourg to be lejeune liomme le plus distingue 
 that Great Britain had ever contributed to its 
 circles! — The Princesse de Chaulieu, who, 
 secure in her own set from English contact, was 
 somewhat too fond of repeating the old assertion 
 that " les Anglais rHont de mur que les pommes 
 cuites, et de poll que leur acier^^ was fain to 
 admit that in Milor Grevile she beheld the 
 Chesterfield of his own country and the image 
 of her early love, the charming Count Louis de 
 Narbonne.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 269 
 
 Scarcely, however, ha.d Mademoiselle de 
 Nangis spent a week in Paris, when her illu- 
 sions vanished. The moment others began to 
 congratulate her on her conquest of the young 
 English lord, she discerned the truth. The 
 total want of embarrassment in her presence 
 which enabled him to dedicate to her, attentions 
 he had not courage to offer to her sister, suffi- 
 ciently indicated his indifference. In their 
 rides, — their drives, — their encounters in the 
 brilliant circles of the Faubourg, — contrary to 
 the habits of French society, it was to her side 
 he attached himself, rather than to that of Ma- 
 dame de Rostanges. Eugenie understood it 
 all. She felt that, when occasion forced her to 
 exhibit a preference, it was Cerny, or Chaulieu, 
 or Massingberdj she selected, rather than the 
 object of her choice. No consciousness, — no 
 affection I — She saw that Lord Greville did not 
 love her, — rendered clearsighted by her rash 
 attachment to himself! — 
 
 The first moment of discovery was one of 
 anguish and self-upbraiding. But reason and 
 reflection convinced her she had done no wrong. 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 290 greville; or, 
 
 Few but would have been deceived as she had 
 been, by the nature of Lord Greville's atten- 
 tions. Few but would have supposed, as she liad 
 supposed, that his praise, his admiration, his 
 words of kindness, his looks of regard, had been 
 indicative of preference. If she had erred, it 
 was in infringing the customs of her country, and 
 relying too boldly npon her own judgment and 
 preclilections. 
 
 It was done, however. — All that remained for 
 her was to suffer, — to suffer in silence and with 
 resignation. — He would not be long among 
 them. — Better for her that the hero of her 
 vain romance should be a foreigner whom after 
 a few weeks she might never more behold, than 
 one of her own countrymen, a member of their 
 society, and affording to her heart a perpetual 
 memento of its folly. 
 
 The lapse of a few days brought convictions 
 of a still more agonizing kind. This stranger, 
 — this Lord Greville, — whose merits and attrac- 
 tions she had been constantly reciting in the 
 ears of her sister, — was it certain that Madame 
 de Rostanges beheld him with indifference ? —
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 291 
 
 Was it possible for a man so gifted and so 
 devoted, to be constantly by Sophie's side, 
 without producing an impression on her feel- 
 ings ? — Poor Eugenie clasped her hands over 
 her bosom, pressing them forcibly upon her 
 heart as if to subdue its new and throbbinf^ 
 
 o 
 
 emotions, while inquiring of herself whether 
 this horrible thought were not the inspiration of 
 jealousy ; and whether she were not doubly 
 guilty in imputing such a fault to her sister. 
 
 Still, the thought recurred, — still, the apprehen- 
 sion quickened. There was every reason, indeed, 
 for its recurrence. — Greville was constantly in 
 her society. — She, who for a time had hailed his 
 visits with such pride, such joy, as a tribute paid 
 to herself, saw him arrive day after day, with the 
 same seeming courtesies for her, — the same 
 scarcely concealable adoration for Madame de 
 Rostanges! — It required some fortitude to re- 
 tain her place in that crowded salorij in order 
 that the world might continue to mistake 
 his motives as she had once mistaken them ; 
 not as a solace to her pride, but as a safe- 
 o2
 
 292 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 guard for the reputation of the unsuspecting 
 Sophie. 
 
 " I would die rather than that a con- 
 temptuous word or look should be directed 
 towards her /" — faltered Eugenie, when^ taking 
 refuse at leuij^th in her own chamber, she found 
 comfort in tears. " I would die rather than that 
 poor Rostanges, who takes such pride in her, 
 shouM suffer a moment's uneasiness on her 
 account. Heaven knows he has had cause to 
 take pride in her ! — With all her beauty, — such 
 gentleness, — such purity, — such absence of co- 
 quetry ! — In Italy, — here, — of what adoration has 
 she not been the object ; — and almost without 
 perceiving that she was admired. No, no ! — the 
 peace of my good brother-in-law must not be 
 endangered by even a suspicion of evil." 
 
 The prolongation of Greville's stay in Paris 
 was consequently a serious misery to poor 
 Eugenie. She was not prepared for such an 
 extension of her trials. The hourly sense of 
 mortification arising from his presence, recollec- 
 tions of the hopes she had cherished and of
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 293 
 
 their groundless nature, were doubly embittered 
 by the consciousness that her devotion remained 
 undiminished. There was such a charm in his 
 every look, — his every movement ! — Perfect 
 grace, perfect breeding, seemed to govern his 
 slightest gesture. Even as regarded his moral 
 qualities, she felt convinced that he was the 
 dupe of his own heart, and knew not the guilty 
 passion he was cherishing. 
 
 She was sometimes almost out of patience 
 with the pertinacity of her brother-in-law in 
 inviting, nay, almost forcing Lord Greville to 
 the house. Though the conduct of the Marquis 
 de Rostanges was actuated by sentiments of 
 grateful hospitality, she thought there was some- 
 thing ignoble in courting so warmly the 
 friendship of a man of Greville's consequence. 
 She was now beginning to understand the 
 eminence of his position, — to understand it 
 through the vulgar obsequiousness of English 
 servants, and the vulgar boasting of Massing- 
 berd. Yet still the Marquis would not be 
 dissuaded from inducing him to share their 
 daily meals, and use their modest equipages.
 
 294 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 When Lord Greville presented her or her 
 sister, but oftener herself, with some rare 
 exotic, Rostanges would descant upon its cost 
 and value, as though the purchase had been 
 made by a prodigal son of his own. Eu- 
 genie could not bear that the Marquis should 
 be degraded in his eyes by such officious parsi- 
 moniousness. What were his expenses to them? 
 — or why should they withdraw^ him from his 
 luxurious haunts into their more simple house- 
 hold ? 
 
 It is difficult to be satisfied with the conduct 
 of others towards the object of our affections ; 
 it is still more difficult to be satisfied with the 
 conduct of the object of our affection towards 
 others. Mademoiselle de Nangis, who, when in 
 company with Lord Greville and her sister, was 
 constantly on the watch lest anything unguarded 
 in their deportment should betray them to others, 
 or to each other, and whose nights were rendered 
 sleepless and days anxious by perceiving the 
 rapid growth of a passion gradually defying all 
 control, even his own, no sooner heard him 
 taxed by the Faubourg with a " penchant pour
 
 A SEASON IX PARIS. 295 
 
 cette charmante Ledi Cohamme^'' than she felt 
 inclined to resent it as an infidelity. An attach- 
 ment which was to take him wholly out of their 
 circle and withdraw his interest entirely from 
 the Hotel de Rostanges, was a calamity she had 
 not contemplated. 
 
 At the fete of the Duchesse de St. Pierre, 
 she noted his conduct with surprise. At the 
 Embassy breakfast, she was displeased as well 
 as amazed. He seemed to be trifling with her 
 sister ; — to be attempting to gain an influence 
 over her feelings by exciting her jealousy. 
 That any man, even Lord Greville, should 
 presume to coquet with one so irreproachable 
 in word or deed as Sophie de Rostanges, ap- 
 peared impossible. Yet who could say what 
 evil influence might not have been exercised 
 over his character by such companions as St. 
 George, and Frederick Massingberd ? — 
 
 The pleasantries of Madame de St. Pierre 
 concerning the gardenias, therefore, more espe- 
 cially when coupled with Greville's unusual 
 absence, irritated and annoyed her. She was 
 vexed, too, to hear her sister acquiesce so
 
 296 GREVILLE ; OR, 
 
 readily in the project of a partie de campagne, in 
 which she felt certain that Greville would be 
 included. Did they not meet often enough, — 
 morning, — evening, — in private, — in public ? — 
 Was not that noble, that expressive counte- 
 nance ever before them, — ever beaming upon 
 them? — And must Sophie devise new modes 
 for attracting him to their society, and insuring 
 the dangerous enjoyment of his own? 
 
 All that morning, however, no Greville made 
 his appearance ! — By the decree of the Marquis 
 de Rostanges, they were consequently obliged 
 to forego their ride; and though, on entering 
 the caleche for an airing, Sophie carefully indi- 
 cated to the coachman the route usually pursued 
 by their intimates, along the Champs Elysees, 
 through the Porte Dauphine, and past La 
 Muette towards the Mare d'Auteuil, — of Gre- 
 ville, they saw nothing! All the elegants of 
 Paris were in the drive. Cerny, the two La 
 Roche Aymars, Chaulieu, St. George, St. Pierre, 
 were ready, hat in hand, to hail them as they 
 passed. But neither Greville nor Massingberd 
 made their appearance.
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 297 
 
 The evening was devoted to the opening 
 of Franconi's Amphitheatre, in the Champs 
 Elysees, at which the leading lionnes of the 
 Faubourg had given each other rendezvous ; 
 and the Princesse de Chaulieu, in whose party 
 Eugenie and her sister were included, had been 
 careful to extend her invitation to their English 
 friend. After the Cirque, they were to re- 
 pair to Tortoni's, to eat ices and prolong as 
 much as possible their evening's amusement. 
 But when the moment arrived for driving to 
 Franconi's, no Greville was to be seen ; and the 
 cabriolet containing the Prince de Chaulieu and 
 Frederic de St. Pierre constituted their escort. 
 Having assumed the chairs belonging to them 
 in the front row, (the only place at Franconi's 
 which can be pre-engaged, an advantage coun- 
 terbalanced by the annoyance of proximity to 
 the horses and dust,) Eugenie gazed vainly 
 around, in the hope of discovering among the 
 two thousand persons present, the well-known 
 face whose absence so much disquieted her. 
 But no ! — All the lions were there ; — not an 
 idler of Paris was missing among those assem- 
 o 3
 
 298 greville; or, 
 
 bled to applaud the grace and activity of 
 Madame Lejars, and the drolleries of Auriol ; 
 — but no sign of Lord Greville ! — 
 
 '' Where has our cher milor hidden himself 
 this evening?" — demanded the Princesse de 
 Chaulieu of Madame de Rostanges, leaning 
 across her daughter Sidonie and Mademoiselle 
 de Nangis to make the inquiry, and as usual 
 listening to no answer but her own. — " Ah ! 
 very true ! — All those horrid Englishmen re- 
 mained at die Embassy till five this morning, 
 indulging in a second hot supper and iced 
 champagne after we were gone ; securing the 
 poor dear ambassadress exactly fourteen hours 
 fatigue, and themselves such dreadful headaches 
 to-day that you see they are not presentable ! — 
 You fancy Lord Greville has an aversion to 
 wine ? — My dear child, no man has an aversion 
 to wine when he finds himself in the midst of 
 twenty others who are fond of it. — Ilfaut hurler 
 avec les hups! — Depend upon it the sober solemn 
 Greville drank, sang, and made a fool of himself 
 among the best ; more especially as he had been 
 undergoing ihe peine forte et dure of entertaining
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 299 
 
 all the evening that pretty, silly countrywoman of 
 his, Miledi Cobbamme. — Quelle poupee ! — Not an 
 idea ! — not a faculty ! — never was there anything 
 so insipid ; — no trait in her remarks, not even 
 the modest merit of good sense. — Never did one 
 see so complete an automaton! By the way 
 though, now I come to think of it, I am not 
 so sure that this Lord Greville of yours is of the 
 same opinion ; for as I was returning from a 
 visit at St. Ouen, just before dinner, whom 
 should I meet on the road to St. Denis, in a 
 post carriage and four, but the automaton and 
 her cross husband, — with another coachfull of 
 red-faced English bonnes j and white-faced 
 English children : and after the coachfull 
 of bonnes and children, a fourgon and four, 
 to contain their rattletraps, — all according 
 to the regular English system of rendering a 
 journey insupportable by dint of travelling 
 with what are called comforts ; — and after 
 the fourgon and four, containing the portable 
 bedstead and silver stewpans, and all the rest of 
 the nursery trumpery, — guess what? — Lord 
 Greville, my dear ! — ce bon viilor, packed in
 
 300 greville; or, 
 
 a postchaise with his mamma, like Polichinelle 
 and Pierrette in a showman's pack!" 
 
 *' On the road to England ?"— exclaimed 
 Engenie and her sister, at the same moment. 
 
 " OjfF to England, — ^and, as you perceive, in 
 the train of the pretty miledi with the flaxen 
 ringlets! — He told me yesterday he should 
 spend the summer in France. Yet in the course 
 of the evening, you see, she obtained such an 
 ascendancy over him, that he could not bear to 
 let her set off alone ! — Somehow or other, it all 
 escaped my memory, or I should have told you 
 when you came in.— But for my part, I think 
 we have no great loss in him ; for though his 
 figure and manners are well enough, (they 
 remind me a little, a very little, of poor dear 
 Louis de Narbonne,) yet I suspect he was always 
 playing a part ! — I suspect that lefoitd de son 
 caractere is cold and haughty, and that he was, 
 on the whole, bored among us. — Let him run 
 after his mouton qui reve of an Englishwoman ; 
 who will quote Ossian to him, and listen to his 
 sonnets to the moon. — On se passera Men du 
 beau milor" —
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 301 
 
 Unspeakable was the joy of Mademoiselle de 
 Nangis when, at the close of Madame de 
 Chaulieu's rambling narrative, she found her 
 hand affectionately pressed by her sister in token 
 of sympathy. 
 
 " Ma pauvre Eugenie /" — was all that Madame 
 de Rostanges could venture to whisper. But 
 there was such sincerity in her tone, such ear- 
 nestness in her tearful eyes, that Mademoiselle 
 de Nangis felt as much convinced as by a 
 world of protestations. At that moment, 
 she would gladly have embraced the kind 
 sister whom she had presumed to suspect ; the 
 kind sister who, discerning her preference, had 
 cultivated Lord Greville's friendship for her 
 sake. All her regret for his abrupt depar- 
 ture, was effaced by the joy of a discovery that 
 restored to her respect the object of her dearest 
 affection I — 
 
 At the close of the second act, the little party 
 quitted the theatre together, to repair to Tor- 
 toni's. But Madame de Rostanges declined 
 accompanying them. Perceiving the struggle 
 of her sister's feelings, though imperfectly
 
 302 greville; or, 
 
 acquainted with its nature, she chose to return 
 quietly home. But no sooner were the sisters 
 alone in the carriage, than Eugenie fell upon her 
 neck in an agony of tears. 
 
 " That it should end thus !" faltered Madame 
 de Rostanges, tenderly embracing her. " That 
 after all our friendship, all our confidence in 
 him, he should leave us without so much as a 
 word of adieu ! — My dear, dear Eugenie ! — The 
 man who could act thus, is unworthy your 
 regard. — With delight and pride did I watch 
 the growth of an affection which I trusted was 
 mutual. — But a man thus cruelly inconsequPMt 
 could never have made you happy ! Console 
 yourself — dearest, — take courage — a brighter 
 destiny is in store for you." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Nangis returned with 
 warmth the tender caresses of her sister ; but 
 the conflicting nature of her feelings defied 
 expression. 
 
 In gloomy silence, they proceeded to the 
 Hotel de Rostanges, prepared to hasten at once 
 to their own rooms. When lo ! as the servants 
 threw open the doors of the saloon, the first
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 303 
 
 object that struck them was Greville, ensconced 
 in a corner of the sofa, occupied in reading to 
 the Marquis the columns of the Messager ! 
 Refreshments and lights stood on the table, 
 awaiting their return ; and with a smiling coun- 
 tenance, the visitor rose hastily from his chair to 
 welcome them home. 
 
 Eugenie was too much overpowered to utter 
 a syllable ; — but Madame de Rostanges could as 
 little repress her exclamation of " Greville ? — 
 here, — still here ? — We heard that you had 
 started for England" — 
 
 " You could not have done me so much in- 
 justice !" — replied Lord Greville, gravely leading 
 her to a seat. " Quit Paris without one grate- 
 ful word, one farewell to those so dear to me ? — 
 No ! you cannot have believed it !" — 
 
 " And yet the report reached me from those 
 who actually witnessed your departure !" 
 
 *' I accompanied my mother at her desire as 
 far as St. Denis, and rode back. She seemed 
 resolved not to lose sight of me this morning for 
 a single moment," replied Greville, more cheer- 
 fully. " I could have sworn from her manner
 
 304 greville; or, 
 
 she fancied that her presence secured me from 
 some terrible evil. However, she was satisfied 
 that I complied with her desire; more particularly 
 when she saw me gallop safe off from St. Denis, 
 on my return to Paris." 
 
 *' How singular !" — murmured Mademoiselle 
 de Nangis. 
 
 " How delightful !" — added her sister. " Eu- 
 genie, you do not sufficiently express to Lord 
 Greville your joy at his return. Yet half an 
 hour ago, how completely the news of his sudden 
 departure overcame us ! — *' 
 
 Mademoiselle de Nangis coloured deeply, but 
 remained silent. She felt this to be a betrayal 
 of her confidence; and was moreover far from 
 satisfied with Greville's account of his proceed- 
 ings of the day. 
 
 " I returned so late from St. Denis," observed 
 his Lordship, addressing Madame de Rostanges, 
 as if eager to cover the embarrassment of poor 
 Eugenie, " that you were already off to Fran- 
 coni's before I reached the Rue St. Dominique. 
 I knew that by following you I should gain 
 nothing, — that it would be impossible for me to
 
 A SEASON IN PARIS. 305 
 
 obtain a place near your party ; and therefore 
 persuaded the Marquis to let me spend the 
 evening with hinii During your absence, I 
 replaced Mademoiselle de Nangis in her do- 
 mestic duties. After sweetening Monsieur de 
 Ilostanges' coffee, I read him fifty pages of 
 ' Fleur d'Epine,' — till the M(?55ff^er arrived ; and 
 we were deep in the affairs of the East, when 
 your carriage drove into the courtyard." 
 
 These explanations seemed to clear up all 
 perplexities ; and never had Greville appeared 
 so charming to either of the sisters, as on that 
 eventful evening. He was like a recovered 
 treasure. They had fancied him lost to them 
 for ever ; and to find him there, domesticated in 
 the very heart of the family, in more than his 
 usual spirits, more than his usual attractions, 
 was almost too trying a transition from despair 
 to joy!— 
 
 He was placed between them at table, — he 
 was soothed,— he was caressed ; till the Marquis 
 de Rostanges playfully assured him it would be 
 the ruin of him to become in this way Venfant 
 gate des dames— i\iQ Vert- Vert of the convent.
 
 306 GREVILLE. 
 
 — The irony of the old gentleman did not how- 
 ever prevent Madame de Rostanges from over- 
 whelming him with kindness ; or Lord Greville 
 from feeling conscious that the position he occu- 
 pied was the most enviable upon earth ! 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 T. C. Savill, Pi-inter, 10", St. Martin's Lane.
 
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