"Ma fois! je n'y vois goutte!" said the duke, laughing, with his handkerchief still before his eyes.
Montgomery came forward to express his regrets; but it was plain, from his manner, that he did not at all attribute the accident to anything like awkwardness on the part of himself or his elbows, of which he seemed not a part. However, I do not mean to depreciate Mr. Montgomery's dancing in the least; only do but give him elbow-room and he will astonish you!
Mr. Quintin Dick of Curzon Street Mayfair was now announced, and contrived to make his way towards Amy.
Quintin Dick is a man of fifteen or twenty thousand a year; at least, so I guess; for there is no subject on which people are more likely to be mistaken in than that of private finances. However, in spite of his fortune, Quintin Dick is and has been one of the most unpopular men within the United Kingdom. By birth an Irishman, by trade a linen-draper, no, by-the-bye, I am wrong, it was his father, who, they say, dealt in linen, not Quintin himself, carroty Quintin, of whom I cannot say I ever knew any particular harm. I however took it for granted that he was mean and vilely shabby, having never heard two opinions on that point.
I remember Colonel Armstrong telling me one day at Brighton, that the woman who ever got a shilling or a shilling's worth out of Mr. Quintin Dick, ought to be immortalised. I immediately resolved to make the attempt. Meeting Dick the next morning on the Steyne, I told him that I had taken a fancy to an article of millinery, which I was at that moment too poor to purchase, though the price of it was under five pounds. Can it be credited! he actually requested permission to send it home!
Armstrong would not believe me till I showed him the receipt. Au reste, Quintin is the man to whom somebody is said to have remarked, observing that he wore the wrist-bands of his shirt-sleeves so fashionably low as to pass his knuckles, "I am sorry, Mr. Dick, to see that you have so much linen on hand." It strikes me however, that this must be a joke of a hundred years old. No matter. He came this evening to ask us three sisters, as well as Julia and Mrs. Armstrong, to dine with him on the approaching Saturday.
"Who are your men?" I asked.
"Lords Hertford and Alvanly, the Hon. J. Ward, Nugent, Luttrell, and another man or two, whose names I have forgotten," Dick replied.
We all accepted his invitation on account of his party. For himself, he was a man of very few words. In fact, he scarcely ever spoke at all; and when he did he attempted to be satirical; but his were the very worst attempts I ever heard.
Montagu, the relation of the lady in Gloucester Place, of chimney-sweeping notoriety, assisted to keep up the spirit of the dance. Ward walked about, repeating Greek and Latin verses to himself as usual. He made love to Amy and Fanny alternately. I once knew a mistress of his, nay two! Perhaps I may tell you what sort of a character they gave him some other time. Napier came sneaking and grinning into the room, and informed us that either Lord Bath or Lord Bathurst, I forget which, was bringing him into parliament.