deference;
somewhat stately to the young bucks; greeting the wits with gracious
friendliness and a twinkle of raillery; inclining with fatherly
gallantry before the beauties; the degree of his inclination measured
the altitude of the recipient as accurately as a nicely calculated
sand-glass measures the hours.

The King of Bath was happy, for wit, beauty, fashion--to speak more
concretely: nobles, belles, gamesters, beaux, statesmen, and poets
--made fairyland (or opera bouffe, at least) in his dominions; play ran
higher and higher, and Mr. Nash's coffers filled up with gold. To
crown his pleasure, a prince of the French blood, the young Comte de
Beaujolais, just arrived from Paris, had reached Bath at noon in state,
accompanied by the Marquis de Mirepoix, the ambassador of Louis XV. The
Beau dearly prized the society of the lofty, and the present visit was
an honor to Bath: hence to the Master of Ceremonies. What was better,
there would be some profitable hours with the cards and dice. So it was
that Mr. Nash smiled never more benignly than on that bright evening.
The rooms rang with the silvery voices of women and delightful laughter,
while the fiddles went merrily, their melodies chiming sweetly with the
joyance of his mood.

The skill and brazen effrontery of the ambassador's scoundrelly servant
in passing himself off for a man of condition formed the point of
departure for every conversation. It was discovered that there were but
three persons present who had not suspected him from the first; and, by
a singular paradox, the most astute of all proved to be old Mr. Bicksit,
the traveler, once a visitor at Chateaurien; for he, according to
report, had by a coup of diplomacy entrapped the impostor into an
admission that there was no such place. However, like poor Captain
Badger, the worthy old man had held his peace out of regard for the Duke
of Winterset. This nobleman, heretofore secretly disliked, suspected
of irregular devices at play, and never admired, had won admiration and
popularity by his remorse for the mistake, and by the modesty of his
attitude in endeavoring to atone for it, without presuming upon the
privilege of his rank to laugh at the indignation of society; an action
the more praiseworthy because his exposure of the impostor entailed the
disclosure of his own culpability in having stood the villain's sponsor.
To-night, the happy gentleman, with Lady Mary Carlisle upon his arm,
went grandly about t