"Well, and you prefer dis little gentleman—tout les gens sont respectables;" and she sneered, as if in contradiction to the words.
"Perhaps the parties will not bear a comparison," added Lady Tilney, jealous of one whom she patronized, and whose merits she had in a measure acknowledged; and then, turning to Lord Albert, she continued—
"You must not mistake me, my dear lord; I have no objection to the sort of thing you have been describing. I honour talent, and delight in conversation; but then it must be on a proper footing; in circles where those persons who talk, and talk very well I dare say, should be under restraint; where they would feel themselves debarred entirely from undue license, and a consideration that they formed part of the society, and where they would appear in their true characters—to direct and amuse others when called upon; just as actors and singers come upon the stage to play their parts, and then retire. Now in the circle you allude to all this necessary distinction is overthrown at once—every one there, from the nature of things, considers himself pair et compagnon of the company, and behaves accordingly. In small rooms—"
"On meurt de chaud au de froid, par parenthèse," interrupted the Comtesse, who dreaded one of Lady Tilney's long discussions; "for dere is one moment a thorough air, and de next all is shut up, and one fries vid de fire; but dat is always de case where dere is no poêle stove—However, adieu ma belle; I must go and leave you and Milor dere to settle all de points about dat société which he likes so much—adieu—au revoir, Milor, je vous salue."
Lord Albert would have followed his natural impulse of politeness, and handed the Comtesse Leinsengen to her carriage; disposed, perhaps, also to escape further conversation with Lady Tilney on topics where they seemed to hold no ideas in common. This, however, he was not permitted to do, the Comtesse declining his offered arm, saying she should never be forgiven if Lady Tilney were deprived of the triumph of converting him from his errors;—and closing the door, as she insisted on his remaining, Lord Albert was left tête-à-tête with Lady Tilney.
"Do you not think she is terribly gone off this year?" said the latter.
"I do not know if I understand you. If it be that her beauty is gone off, I should say yes—but I never heard she was handsome."
"No?" asked Lady Tilney, with an expression of satisfaction; "but she is surely very distingué looking."—"She has the advantage of that species of polish which the world gives," was Lord Albert's reply; "but this often covers an unpolished mind—and I am not sure it is the first thing I should look for."
"I like nature as much as you can do, my dear lord; I ever stood up for that liberty and freedom attendant on persons not quite fait au feu; but I must confess that I like to have them a little dressed, not perfectly raw."
How far Lord Albert might have found it possible to agree with Lady Tilney in this new question, so suddenly started, it was not left him to discover; for at that moment fresh visitors were announced—and, as they entered, Lord Albert prepared to depart. Not, however, till Lady Tilney—who, spite of what she called his false theories, saw he was a person by no means to be hastily rejected—had bidden him to her box at the Opera on Saturday evening. "I am determined to be at the rising of the curtain," she said, "to hear the Sontag—only it is so difficult to be in time. Were you ever in time in your life?"—