"What matters dat—you do not care for royalties." For an instant Lady Tilney's command of language was checked—she almost betrayed her vexation, when fortunately the name of Lady Ellersby was announced, whose dawdling drawl, as she entered the apartment, smoothed over the asperities which began to mark the conversation, and which might have rendered it in the end a little too piquante.
"My dear Lady Ellersby," said Lady Tilney, "how charmed I am to see you. I was dying to meet you, to consult you, to enjoy your entertaining society." The Comtesse Leinsengen smiled significantly, as she said, "And so was I."
"Consult me! La—well, that is something quite new—nobody ever consulted me; but pray explain what you mean."
"Oh! we want to establish some regulations by which our society shall be distinguished, and which shall save us from the inroads of all these people whom we are constantly meeting, and obliged to be civil to, whether we will or no—in short, something that shall make us, as we ought to be—a race à part."
"I thought," Lady Ellersby replied, "we always were that."—"To be sure we were; but then, my dear, you know abuses will creep in, and all constitutions require from time to time to be strengthened or reformed, according to circumstances; and you know, my dear Lady Ellersby, that we have all of us long since lamented that Almack's, which was excellent in its way, has now, from the infringement on its privileges, become quite corrupted from its original design, and something positively must be done, or we shall be overwhelmed en masse—something to stem this torrent, this inroad of Goths and Vandals."
"Dear me, that sounds very alarming—you quite frighten me; I don' t understand you—pray tell me what it is you propose."
"Why," answered Lady Tilney, "we wish to form a society entirely to ourselves, which shall be quite exclusive—a society for which we shall settle d'avance every particular and qualification of the persons who may be admitted to it. Thus you see (turning to the Comtesse Leinsengen), my dear Comtesse, we shall never do any thing but in concert with each other, and never invite any one but those who entirely suit us. You understand me now, don't you?" addressing Lady Ellersby.
"Oh dear, yes! I think I do."
"No, no, you do not understand her. Permettez—in one word I will explain vat Lady Tilney mean to say: voici le mot de l'énigme—you are all English, and though you do your possible you cannot help being English. You are all afraid in dis country to do vat you like best; and though Lady Tilney propose to ask only de chosen few, you will none of you do so in reality, take my word for dat. You talk freedom, but act in chains. Now we, au contraire, chez nous—we women I mean—do de freedom, and never tink of de chain at all; but whenever you ladies make your lists for your parties for instance; den comes—dis is not politic, toder is not right,—dis is not my husband's pleasure; some scarecrow or anoder is always driving you off de land of amusement. Now you say you will open your doors only to those you like, and you are right—dere is no oder secret for to make pleasant society; but you will not do it nevertheless, ladies, for you are all de cowards."