very sad!--was she as pretty as they said?--handsomer than Lucy Fox
I have heard!"

"I almost think so."

"That is great praise from you, if there be any truth in _on dits_. Had
not you a kind of tenderness in that quarter?"

"Me!"

"Nay, don't affect surprise: we heard the story at Florence, and a very
funny story it was: that Lucy insisted upon it, if you didn't propose
for her, that she would for you, since she was determined to be
mistress of a certain black Arabian that you had; and that you, fearing
consequences, sent her the horse, and so compromised the affair."

"How very absurd!"

"But is it not true? Can you deny having made a present of the steed?"

"She did me the honour to accept of a pony, but the attenuating
circumstances are all purely imaginary."

"_Si non vero e ben trovato_.--It was exactly what she would do!"

"An unfair inference, which I feel bound to enter a protest against. If
we were only to charge our acquaintances with what we deem them capable
of----"

"Well, finish, I pray you."

"I was only about to add, what would become of ourselves?"

"Meaning you and me, for instance?"

I bowed an assent.

"'_Qui s'excuse, s'accuse_,' says the adage," rejoined she gaily: "I
neither do one nor the other. At the same time, let me confess to one
thing of which I am capable, which is, of detesting any one who in this
age of the world affects to give a tone of moralizing to a conversation.
Now I presume you don't wish this. I will even take it for granted, that
you would rather we were good friends, as we used to be long ago.--Oh
dear, don't sigh that way!"

"It was you that sighed!"

"Well, I am very sorry for it. It was wrong of _me_, and very wrong of
_you_ to tell me of it. But dear me! is it so late? can it really be
three o'clock?"

"I am a quarter past; but I think we must both be fast. You are going
out?"

"A mere drive in the Champs Elysees, where I shall pay a few visits and
be back to dinner. Will you dine with us?"

"I pray you to excuse me--don't forget I am a sick man."

"Well, then, we shall see you at the Opera?"

"I fear not. If I might ask a favour, it would be to take the volume of
Balzac away with me."

"Oh, to be sure! But we have some others, much newer. You know 'Le
Recherche de l'Absolu', already?"

"Yes; but I like 'Eugenie' still better. It was an old taste of mine,
and as you quoted a proverb a few moments ago, let me give you another
as trite and a