no one; and so great was her desire of
appearing magnificently, that she was ambitious to vie with those of the
greatest fortunes, though unable to support the expense. All this suited
the Chevalier de Grammont; therefore, without trifling away his time in
useless ceremonies, he applied to her porter for admittance, and chose
one of her lovers for his confidant.

This lover, who was not deficient in wit, was at that time a Mr. Jones,
afterwards Earl of Ranelagh: what engaged him to serve the Chevalier de
Grammont, was to traverse the designs of a most dangerous rival, and to
relieve himself from an expense which began to lie too heavy upon him.
In both respects the Chevalier answered his purpose.

Immediately spies were placed, letters and presents flew about: he was
received as well as he could wish: he was permitted to ogle: he was
even ogled again; but this was all. He found that the fair one was very
willing to accept, but was tardy in making returns. This induced him,
without giving up his pretensions to her, to seek his fortune elsewhere.

Among the queen's maids of honour, there was one called Warmestre: she
was a beauty very different from the other. Mrs. Middleton was well
made, fair, and delicate; but had in her behaviour and discourse
something precise and affected. The indolent languishing airs she gave
herself did not please everybody: people grew weary of those sentiments
of delicacy, which she endeavoured to explain without understanding
them herself; and instead of entertaining she became tiresome. In these
attempts she gave herself so much trouble, that she made the company
uneasy, and her ambition to pass for a wit, only established her the
reputation of being tiresome, which lasted much longer than her beauty.

Miss Warmestre was brown: she had no shape at all, and still less air;
but she had a very lively complexion, very sparkling eyes, tempting
looks, which spared nothing that might ensnare a lover, and promised
everything which could preserve him. In the end, it very plainly
appeared that her consent went along with her eyes to the last degree of
indiscretion.

It was between these two goddesses that the inclinations of the
Chevalier de Grammont stood wavering, and between whom his presents were
divided. Perfumed gloves, pocket looking-glasses, elegant boxes, apricot
paste, essences, and other small wares of love, arrived every week from
Paris, with some new suit for himself; but, with regard