h minister, shrewd, bland, and eloquent, in
the chair at her right; and round on all sides pressed, and bowed, and
complimented, a crowd of diplomatic secretaries and Italian princes,
whose bank is at the gaming-table, whose estates are in their galleries,
and who sell a picture, as English gentlemen cut down a wood, whenever
the cards grow gloomy. The charming De Ventadour! she had attraction for
them all! smiles for the silent, badinage for the gay, politics for the
Frenchman, poetry for the German, the eloquence of loveliness for all!
She was looking her best--the slightest possible tinge of rouge gave
a glow to her transparent complexion, and lighted up those large dark
sparkling eyes (with a latent softness beneath the sparkle) seldom seen
but in the French--and widely distinct from the unintellectual languish
of the Spaniard, or the full and majestic fierceness of the Italian
gaze. Her dress of black velvet, and graceful hat with its princely
plume, contrasted the alabaster whiteness of her arms and neck. And what
with the eyes, the skin, the rich colouring of the complexion, the
rosy lips and the small ivory teeth, no one would have had the cold
hypercriticism to observe that the chin was too pointed, the mouth too
wide, and the nose, so beautiful in the front face, was far from perfect
in the profile.

"Pray was Madame in the Strada Nuova to-day?" asked the German, with as
much sweetness in his voice as if he had been vowing eternal love.

"What else have we to do with our mornings, we women?" replied Madame de
Ventadour. "Our life is a lounge from the cradle to the grave; and
our afternoons are but the type of our career. A promenade and
a crowd,--_voila tout_! We never see the world except in an open
carriage."

"It is the pleasantest way of seeing it," said the Frenchman, drily.

"I doubt it; the worst fatigue is that which comes without exercise."

"Will you do me the honour to waltz?" said the tall English lord, who
had a vague idea that Madame de Ventadour meant she would rather dance
than sit still. The Frenchman smiled.

"Lord Taunton enforces your own philosophy," said the minister.

Lord Taunton smiled because every one else smiled; and, besides, he had
beautiful teeth: but he looked anxious for an answer.

"Not to-night,--I seldom dance. Who is that very pretty woman? What
lovely complexions the English have! And who," continued Madame de
Ventadour, without waiting for an answer to the first q