“Has Sir Robert Percy any one with him?” asked one of the young ladies.
“I am not speaking of Sir Robert Percy,” replied Miss Georgiana, “but of the other branch, the fallen branch of the Percys—our relations too—but we know nothing of them—only mamma was obliged to ask them for to-night—And, Bell, only conceive how horribly provoking! because they come, we sha’n’t have Sir Robert Percy—just sent to excuse himself.”
“Abominable! Now, really!—And for people quite out of the world, that nobody ever heard of, except Lord Oldborough, who, ages ago, had some political connexion, I think they say, with the father,” said Miss Arabella.
“No, they met abroad, or something of that sort,” replied Miss Georgiana.
“Was that it? Very likely—I know nothing about them: I only wish they had stayed at home, where they are so fond of staying, I hear. You know, Georgiana, Buckhurst told us, that when they had something to live upon they never lived like other people, but always were buried alive in the country; and Lady Jane Granville, with her own lips, told me, that, even since they lost their fortune, she had asked one of these girls to town with her and to Tunbridge—Now only conceive how kind! and what an advantage that would have been—And, can you believe it? Mr. Percy was so unaccountable, and they all so odd, that they refused—Lady Jane, of course, will never ask them again. But now, must not they be the silliest creatures in the universe?”
“Silly! Oh! dear, no: there you are wrong, Bell; for you know they are all so wise, and so learned, so blue, such a deep blue, and all that sort of thing, that, for my part, I shall never dare to open my lips before them.”
“Fortunately,” said one of the young ladies, “you have not much to fear from their learning at a ball; and as dancers I don’t apprehend you have much to dread from any of them, even from the beauty.”
“Why, scarcely,” said Miss Georgiana; “I own I shall be curious to see how they will get on—‘comment ces savantes se tireront d’affaire.’ I wonder they are not here. Keep your eye on the door, dear Lady Frances—I would not miss their entrée for millions.”
In vain eyes and glasses were fixed in expectation of the arrival of these devoted objects of ridicule—another, and another, and another came, but not the Percys.
The band was now ready, and began to play—Count Altenberg entered the room. Quick as grace can venture to move, Mrs. Falconer glided to receive him. Miss Georgiana Falconer, at the same moment, composed her features into their most becoming position, and gave herself a fine air of the head. The Count bowed to her—she fanned herself, and her eye involuntarily glanced, first at a brilliant star he wore, and then at her mother, whilst, with no small degree of anxiety, she prepared to play off, on this decisive evening, all her artillery, to complete her conquest—to complete her victory, for she flattered herself that only the finishing blow was wanting. In this belief her female companions contributed to confirm her, though probably they were all the time laughing at her vanity.