am now about
to find some other empress of the heart. What think you of the Lady
Hasselton?--a fair dame and a sprightly. I want nothing but her love to
be the most enviable of men, and a French _valet-de-chambre_ to be the
most irresistible."

"The former is easier to obtain than the latter, I fear," returned
Aubrey; "all places produce light dames, but the war makes a scarcity of
French valets."

"True," said I, "but I never thought of instituting a comparison between
their relative value. The Lady Hasselton, no disparagement to her
merits, is but one woman; but a French valet who knows his _metier_ arms
one for conquest over a thousand;" and I turned to the saloon.

Fate, which had destined to me the valuable affections of the Lady
Hasselton, granted me also, at a yet earlier period, the greater boon
of a French valet. About two or three weeks after this sapient
communication with Aubrey, the most charming person in the world
presented himself a candidate _pour le supreme bonheur de soigner
Monsieur le Comte_. Intelligence beamed in his eye; a modest assurance
reigned upon his brow; respect made his step vigilant as a zephyr's; and
his ruffles were the envy of the world!

I took him at a glance; and I presented to the admiring inmates of the
house a greater coxcomb than the Count Devereux in the ethereal person
of Jean Desmarais.

CHAPTER XI.

THE HERO ACQUITS HIMSELF HONOURABLY AS A COXCOMB.--A FINE LADY OF
THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY, AND A FASHIONABLE DIALOGUE; THE SUBSTANCE OF
FASHIONABLE DIALOGUE BEING IN ALL CENTURIES THE SAME.

"I AM thinking, Morton," said my uncle, "that if you are to go to town,
you should go in a style suitable to your rank. What say you to flying
along the road in my green and gold chariot? 'Sdeath! I'll make you
a present of it. Nay--no thanks; and you may have four of my black
Flanders mares to draw you."

"Now, my dear Sir William," cried Lady Hasselton, who, it may be
remembered, was the daughter of one of King Charles's Beauties, and who
alone shared the breakfast-room with my uncle and myself,--"now, my dear
Sir William, I think it would be a better plan to suffer the Count
to accompany us to town. We go next week. He shall have a seat in our
coach, help Lovell to pay our post-horses, protect us at inns, scold at
the drawers in the pretty oaths of the fashion, which are so innocent
that I will teach them to his Countship myself; and unless I am much
more frightful than my