conds, the Bailie regarded him
with grave disapproval. The mind of Muirtown, during this performance of
the Count's, used to be divided between regret that any human being
should condescend to such tricks, and profound thankfulness that
Muirtown was not part of a foreign country where people were brought up
with the manners of poodles. Our pity for foreigners was nourished by
the manner of the Count's dress, which would have been a commonplace on
a _boulevard_, but astounded Muirtown on its first appearance, and
always lent an element of piquant interest to our streets. His perfectly
brushed hat, broadish in the brim and curled at the sides, which he wore
at the faintest possible angle, down to his patent leather boots, which
it was supposed he obtained in Paris, and wore out at the rate of a pair
a month--all was unique and wonderful, but it was his frock-coat which
stimulated conversation. It was so tight and fitted so perfectly,
revealing the outlines of his slender form, and there was such an
indecent absence of waist--waist was a strong point with Muirtown men,
and in the case of persons who had risen to office, like the Provost,
used to run to fifty inches--that a report went round the town that the
Count was a woman. This speculation was confirmed rather than refuted by
the fact that the Count smoked cigarettes, which he made with Satanic
ingenuity while you were looking at him, and that he gave a display of
fencing with the best swordsman of a Dragoon regiment in the barracks,
for it was shrewdly pointed out that those were just the very
accomplishments of French "Cutties." This scandal might indeed have
crystallised into an accepted fact, and the Provost been obliged to
command the Count's departure, had it not been for the shrewdness and
good nature of the "Fair Maid of Muirtown." There always was a fair maid
in Muirtown--and in those days she was fairest of her succession: let
this flower lie on her grave. She declared to her friends that she had
watched the Count closely and had never once seen him examine a woman's
dress when the woman wasn't looking; and after that no person of
discernment in Muirtown had any doubt about the Count's sex. It was,
however, freely said--and that story was never contradicted--that he
wore stays, and every effort was made to obtain the evidence of his
landlady. Her gossips tried Mistress Jamieson with every wile of
conversation, and even lawyers' wives, pretending to inquire for