olite?

These notes of admiration or interrogation, the Baroness took with
equal complacency (speaking parenthetically, and, for his own part, the
present chronicler cannot help putting in a little respectful remark
here, and signifying his admiration of the conduct of ladies towards one
another, and of the things which they say, which they forbear to say,
and which they say behind each other's backs. With what smiles and
curtseys they stab each other! with what compliments they hate each
other! with what determination of long-suffering they won't be offended!
with what innocent dexterity they can drop the drop of poison into the
cup of conversation, hand round the goblet, smiling, to the whole family
to drink, and make the dear, domestic circle miserable!)--I burst out of
my parenthesis. I fancy my Baroness and Countess smiling at each other
a hundred years ago, and giving each other the hand or the cheek, and
calling each other, My dear, My dear creature, My dear Countess, My dear
Baroness, My dear sister--even, when they were most ready to fight.

"You wonder, my dear Maria, that the boy should be so polite?" cries
Madame de Bernstein. "His mother was bred up by two very perfect
gentlefolks. Colonel Esmond had a certain grave courteousness, and a
grand manner, which I do not see among the gentlemen nowadays."

"Eh, my dear, we all of us praise our own time! My grandmamma used to
declare there was nothing like Whitehall and Charles the Second."

"My mother saw King James the Second's court for a short while, and
though not a court-educated person, as you know,--her father was a
country clergyman--yet was exquisitely well-bred. The Colonel, her
second husband, was a person of great travel and experience, as well as
of learning, and had frequented the finest company of Europe. They could
not go into their retreat and leave their good manners behind them, and
our boy has had them as his natural inheritance."

"Nay, excuse me, my dear, for thinking you too partial about your
mother. She could not have been that perfection which your filial
fondness imagines. She left off liking her daughter--my dear creature,
you have owned that she did--and I cannot fancy a complete woman who has
a cold heart. No, no, my dear sister-in-law! Manners are very requisite,
no doubt, and, for a country parson's daughter, your mamma was very
well--I have seen many of the cloth who are very well. Mr. Sampson, our
chaplain, is very well. Dr.