"Oh! its D'Esterre," said Leslie Winyard, "do you not know him a mile off, by all his bows and grimaces: for me, I could 'wind him i' the lobby, any where.'"
"Damn the fellow, what business has he with such a horse—can he ride?"
"I should think not," drawled out Lord Baskerville; "he is the most conceited animal London has boasted for some centuries. I heard him talk last night about that dear Sontag, till I was sick."—"And, my lords and gentlemen," said Leslie Winyard, in mock solemnity, "he talked not only most fancifully, as my Lord Baskerville avers, last night, but on this morning too: and upon what? Divine, O ye augurs! declare it, ye soothsayers!—Why he discovered, in the very age and body of the time—its forms and its complexion, and pronounced our manners, rude; our bearing, unlike gentlemen; our noble array here, barbaric and uncivilized;—in short, [assuming his natural tone] he is a d—d puppy. I caught him, but now, preaching in this strain to Glenmore, who, like a fool, said he agreed with him!"—A general murmur burst from the circle which had listened to Leslie Winyard, and the words coxcomb, ass, puppy, poppinjay, and jackanapes, issued simultaneously from the lips of these polished ultras of ton.
Lord Tonnerre alone was silent, but his features shewed him to be as little in a mood for gentleness as any of them. When having grasped his rein, and put his horse on his haunches, he glanced a look of intelligence to those around him, and was off at full speed towards the spot where Lord Albert, leaning from his horse, was still conversing with Lady Hamlet Vernon. Regardless of courtesy, or the consequences of his impetuosity, he kept his violent course till within half a neck of the carriage, and then suddenly endeavoured to wheel round, and pass on the other side. Lord Albert's horse, startled at this close and sudden approach, plunged, and alarmed at the carriages and noise, became, for a moment, unmanageable, and broke away. His rider's admirable dexterity and coolness, however, soon enabled him to rein in this movement, and return towards the spot from which he had started, and where his preoccupation had prevented his observing that a crowd of horsemen had gathered, who partially stood round, or were dismounting, seemingly to assist in some accident. He moved at a quicker pace, and found that Lord Tonnerre's horse, on being so roughly checked, had reared, and fallen back on his rider.
Lord Albert was on his feet in an instant, and making his way through the throng was as eager in his inquiries, and prompt to render assistance to the sufferer, as if he had been personally interested in him. He found, however, no serious mischief had occurred. Lord Tonnerre, with the exception of having been stunned with the fall, and not yet able to rise, seemed perfectly himself, and careless of what had happened.
His first inquiries were for his horse; and having been assured by several of his friends that no injury had been sustained in that quarter, he swore loudly against the animal for a fault which had been entirely his own, gave way to the most violent gesticulations of angry passion against the curiosity (as he called it) of the by-standers, and so disgusted Lord Albert D'Esterre by his want of proper feeling under an accident that might have ended fatally, that the latter mounted his horse once more, rode round to the other side of Lady Hamlet Vernon's carriage to assure her that she need be under no apprehension for Lord Tonnerre's safety, and continuing by her side as she proceeded out of the Park, left the actors of this paltry scene to bear their discomfiture as they best could.