an the most beautiful drawing-room of the provincial
prefecture. There, footmen more or less powdered--for there are rebels
who choose to wear so little powder, that you would rather take them
for millers, in livery, than for servants of the anteroom--these
self-styled powdered lackeys offer you a great book, bound in velvet,
with the corners bronzed and gilt, in which you are asked to write
your name. If the lady of the house is visible, you are pompously
ushered into the sanctuary--that is to say, into the second salon or
parlour, or closet, or _atelier_, whichever best assorts with the
pretensions of the lady. A dog darts upon you, barks, makes a show of
biting you; he is quieted, submits, and regains his purple cushion,
growling. Dogs are very much in fashion: together with the fire,
flowers, an old aunt, and two toadies, they make up part of the living
accompaniments of a genteel salon. As you are an elegant person, of
course you are ill-dressed: your coat is dusty, your boots speckled
with mud, your hair uncombed, you exhale a strong odour of tobacco. At
first glance, such things seem rather disagreeable, common, and
inelegant. No such thing: this is exactly the most fashionable style
we have; it seems to say: "I have just dismounted from the finest
horse in Paris. I am a man of fashion, of that distinguished position
in society, that I can go in a morning to call on a duchess, _dressed
like a highwayman_."

'On the other hand, the mistress of the house is charming. One must do
women the justice to say, that they never take a pride in ugliness;
that they never make elegance to consist in appearing to the greatest
possible disadvantage. The woman whom you are visiting, then, is
dressed in the best taste. A beautiful lace cap covers her light hair;
she wears a soft figured Gros do Naples; her stockings are of
exquisite fineness; her shoes irreproachable (we doubt not they bear
the mark of either Gros or Mueller); her Valenciennes cuffs are
irresistible: everything betokens care and fastidious nicety. The
freshness of her appearance is a satire on the negligence of yours.
One cannot comprehend why this elegant woman should have prepared
herself in so costly a manner to receive this man; and in the evening,
really the contrast is greater still. Young men no longer wear
stockings when they go into a party; yet they dare not just yet
present themselves in boots; and therefore they come in _brodequins_,
like students. W