Lord Albert's face shewed, in the generous glow which suffused it, a sense of his friend's appreciation of his sounder judgment; but he added, with a smile, "if you will not allow my present admiration to proceed from such a noble spring, at least do not accuse me of a reverse of sentiment, if I draw a comparison, in another respect, not at all favourable to my countrymen. Do you observe that line of men drawn up in battle array, and with impertinent nonchalance passing judgment on the women who drive before them? It must, or ought to be, at least, offensive to the pride and delicacy of the former; it would shock any European, and is a custom more suited to eastern despotism, and to the rules of an Asiatic slave mart, than to a civilized nation."
"But do you conclude, therefore, that the men are alone to blame in this?" asked Lord Glenmore; "and is it to be presumed that they would have forgotten the courtesies and respect due from them, if women in general had been more true to the delicacies and decencies of their own sex. Do justice to the men while you blame the practice of the day, and acknowledge, that if the nod, or motion of the hand, or impertinent glance of recognition now takes place of the bow and respectful salutation of other times, yet that there must have been a sufferance of the change, if not an encouragement of it, and an equal alteration of manners on the other hand, or it would never have been."
"I dare say you are right, Glenmore; and if so the more the pity. But although custom sanctions all change in reciprocal demeanour between men and women, yet because the stiff and manière address of the last century was laid aside with the silk coat, and bag-wig, and sword, I do not see why courtly manners should have been exiled at the same time. So long as society is to exist on a proper footing, there must be an outward shew of proper feelings; and when all deference in minor points ceases, it is quite certain that all consideration of respect in more serious matters will cease too."—"What is that I hear?" cried Leslie Winyard, riding up to Lord Glenmore's side, and nodding familiarly to his companion;—"what is that I hear about proper feelings, and all consideration of respect? You are not moralizing in Hyde Park I hope."
"D'Esterre says that you men do very wrong to sit on your horses, rank and file, and let the ladies parade before you; and I think what he says is true."
"Indeed!" replied Mr. Leslie Winyard, and looking round in Lord Albert D'Esterre's face with a sneer, "I believe if we were not to do so, you would have very few beauties to admire in your ride,—the women only come here to see us."—"And what do you come for?" asked Lord Glenmore smiling.—"Oh, to shew ourselves, certainly: to be admired." Before he could reply to the insufferable impertinence of this speech—if indeed he would have deemed it worthy any reply—an equipage caught the eye of Lord Glenmore as it entered the gate, and putting spurs to his horse he was at its side in a moment and speaking to the ladies in it. "Whose carriage is that?" asked Lord Albert of Leslie Winyard, who continued to saunter his horse in company with him.
"It's the Melcombe's," he replied, after a pause, and having put the handle of his whip, which contained a glass, to his eye—"it's the Melcombe's: Georgina is a d—d fine girl. Don't you know Georgina? they say Glenmore is smitten,—I'll go and see the fun;" and, with these words, this model of the gallantry of the nineteenth century rode off. "What can he mean," said Lord Albert to himself, "by calling any woman familiarly by her name in that manner, unless she be his sister or near relative; but to me, a stranger almost to himself, and to the party utterly unknown, what abominable vulgarity, what detestable insolence!"
There is no saying how far Lord Albert might have gone on in his animadversions on the manners of his sex, if he had been left quite to himself, for there was enough around him, and before his eyes, to provoke remark even in a mind less alive to the niceties and decorum of polished life. But his attention was called another way, and he in turn was to become a subject of flippant ridicule; to be set down as a person à prétension, by the young men whose manners he had very justly condemned, and who chose to attribute to coxcombry and to affectation, a demeanour and a bearing which they had not the power to imitate.
A graceful inclination of the head from some lady passing in the throng, and whose feathers waved in unison with the movement, as she bowed to Lord Albert, caught his eye. He gazed for a moment, not recognizing the party, but lifted his hat courteously from his head, and as he looked back to ascertain better who it was, perceived the carriage had stopped near the gate. Turning his horse, therefore, he rode in the direction, and discovered that it was Lady Hamlet Vernon who had saluted him. He approached the carriage, with all the air and gallantry of a really high bred person, thanked Lady Hamlet Vernon for the honour she had done him, in recognizing him in the crowd; apologized for his own blindness, and continued for some minutes in conversation with her on the beauty and gaiety of the scene, and on the current topics of the day. His back was turned at the time to the phalanx of horsemen, whose ranks, and avowed occupation, had given occasion to his remarks on the bad manners of the age; and who now, assembled in closer body by the gate, were ready to give their last glance of scrutiny or recognition to the departing carriages.
"That's a fine horse that man is upon," said Lord Tonnerre, pointing to Lord Albert; "who the devil is he?"