Miss Als. Humour, Chignon? What am I dressed for now?
Chignon. The parfaite aimable, madam: but my bringing de point of de hair more down to de eye-brow, or adding a little blowse to de sides, I can give you de look severe, capricieuse—vat you please.
Miss Als. We'll put it off for half an hour, I am not quite decided. I was in the capricieuse yesterday—I believe I shall keep on the perfect amiable. [Exit Chignon.] Tiffany, take off my powdering gown——Ah! ho!——How the wench tugs—do you think you are pulling off the coachman's greatcoat?
Mrs. Blandish. My dear amiable!—do not let that sweet temper be ruffled—Why will you not employ me in these little offices. Delicacy like yours should be waited upon by the softness of a sylph.
[During this Speech exit Tiffany peevishly.
Miss Als. I am promised a creature to be about me out of the common way.
Mrs. Blandish. A new woman?
Miss Als. No; something to be raised much higher, and at the same time fitted better to receive one's ill-humour. An humble companion, well born, well educated, and perfectly dependent, is a most useful appurtenance in the best families.
Mrs. Blandish. Well, do not raise her to the rank of a friend, lest I should be jealous.
Miss Als. You may be perfectly secure—I shall take particular care that friendship shall be out of the question on both sides. I had once thought of a restoration of pages to sit in scarlet and silver (as one reads in former times) upon the forepart of the coach, and to hold up one's train—but I have a new male attendant in a valet de chambre, who has possession of my bust—My two women will have the charge from the point of the shoulder to the toe—So my person being provided for—the Countess of Gayville shall have an attendant to wait upon her mind.