did my situation lessen it; for I was seated between Madame Duval and Sir Clement, who seemed as little as myself to desire Lord Orville’s presence. Indeed, the continual wrangling and ill-breeding of Captain Mirvan and Madame Duval made me blush that I belonged to them. And poor Mrs. Mirvan and her amiable daughter had still less reason to be satisfied.
A general silence ensued after he was seated: his appearance, from different motives, gave an universal restraint to every body. What his own reasons were for honouring us with his company, I cannot imagine; unless, indeed, he had a curiosity to know whether I should invent any new impertinence concerning him.
The first speech was made by Madame Duval, who said, “It’s quite a shocking thing to see ladies come to so genteel a place as Ranelagh with hats on; it has a monstrous vulgar look: I can’t think what they wear them for. There is no such a thing to be seen in Paris.”
“Indeed,” cried Sir Clement, “I must own myself no advocate for hats; I am sorry the ladies ever invented or adopted so tantalizing a fashion: for, where there is beauty, they only serve to shade it; and, where there is none, to excite a most unavailing curiosity. I fancy they were originally worn by some young and whimsical coquette.”
“More likely,” answered the Captain, “they were invented by some wrinkled old hag, who’d a mind for to keep the young fellows in chace, let them be never so weary.”
“I don’t know what you may do in England,” cried Madame Duval, “but I know in Paris no woman needn’t be at such a trouble as that to be taken very genteel notice of.”
“Why, will you pretend for to say,” returned the Captain, “that they don’t distinguish the old from the young there as well as here?”
“They don’t make no distinguishments at all,” said she; “they’re vastly too polite.”
“More fools they!” cried the Captain, sneeringly.
“Would to Heaven,” cried, Sir Clement, “that, for our own sakes, we Englishmen too were blest with so accommodating a blindness!”
“Why the devil do you make such a prayer as that?” demanded the Captain: “them are the first foolish words I’ve heard you speak; but I suppose you’re not much used to that sort of work. Did you ever make a prayer before, since you were a sniveler?”
“Ay, now,” cried Madame Duval, “that’s another of the unpolitenesses of you English, to go to talking of such things as that: now in Paris nobody never says nothing about religion, no more than about politics.”
“Why then,” answered he, “it’s a sign they take no more care of their souls than of their country, and so both one and t’other go to old Nick.”
“Well, if they do,” said she, “who’s the worse, so long as they don’t say nothing about it? It’s the tiresomest thing in the world to be always talking of them sort of things, and nobody that’s ever been abroad troubles their heads about them.”
“Pray then,” cried the Captain, “since you know so much of the matter, be so good as to tell us what they do trouble their heads about? — Hey, Sir Clement! han’t we a right to know that much?”
“A very comprehensive question,” said Sir Clement, “and I expect much instruction from the lady’s answer.”
“Come, Madam,” continued the Captain, “never flinch; speak at once; don’t stop for thinking.”
“I assure you I am not going,” answered she; “for as to what they do do, why they’ve enough to do, I promise you, what with one thing or another.”
“But what, what do they do, these famous Monseers?” demanded the Captain; “can’t you tell us? do they game? — or drink? — or fiddle? — or are they jockeys? — or do they spend all their time in flummering old women?”
“As to that, Sir — but indeed I shan’t trouble myself to answer such a parcel of low questions, so don’t ask me no more about it.” And then, to my great vexation, turning to Lord Orville, she said, “Pray, Sir, was you ever in Paris?”
He only bowed.
“And pray, Sir, how did you like it?”
This comprehensive question, as Sir Clement would have called it, though it made him smile, also made him hesitate; however, his answer was expressive of his approbation.
“I thought you would like it, Sir, because you look so like a gentleman. As to the Captain, and as to that other gentleman, why they may very well not like what they don’t know: for I suppose, Sir, you was never abroad?”
“Only three years, Ma’am,” answered Sir Clement, drily.
“Well, that’s very surprising! I should never have thought it: however, I dare say you only kept company with the English.”
“Why, pray, who should he keep company with?” cried the Captain: “what I suppose you’d have him ashamed of his own nation, like some other people not a thousand miles off, on purpose to make his own nation ashamed of him?”
“I’m sure it would be a very good thing if you’d go abroad yourself.”
“How will you make out that, hey, Madam? come, please to tell me, where would be the good of that?”
“Where! why a great deal. They’d make quite another person of you.”
“What, I suppose you’d have me to learn to cut capers? — and dress like a monkey? — and palaver in French gibberish? — hey, would you? — And powder, and daub, and make myself up, like some other folks?”
“I would have you learn to be more politer, Sir, and not to talk to ladies in such a rude, old-fashion way as this. You, Sir, as have been in Paris,” again addressing herself to Lord Orville, “can tell this English gentleman how he’d be despised, if he was to talk in such an ungenteel manner as this before any foreigners. Why, there isn’t a hairdresser, nor a shoemaker, nor nobody, that wouldn’t blush to be in your company.”
“Why, look ye, Madam,” answered the Captain, “as to your hair-pinchers and shoe-blacks, you may puff off their manners, and welcome; and I am heartily glad you like ’em so well: but as to me, since you must needs make so free of your advice, I must e’en tell you, I never kept company with any such gentry.”
“Come, ladies and gentlemen,” said Mrs. Mirvan, “as many of you as have done tea, I invite to walk with me.” Maria and I started up instantly; Lord Orville followed; and I question whether we were not half round the room ere the angry disputants knew that we had left the box.
As the husband of Mrs. Mirvan had borne so large a share in the disagreeable altercation, Lord Orville forbore to make any comments upon it; so that the subject was immediately dropt, and the conversation became calmly sociable, and politely cheerful, and, to every body but me, must have been highly agreeable:— but, as to myself, I was so eagerly desirous of making some apology to Lord Orville, for the impertinence of which he must have thought me guilty at the ridotto, and yet so utterly unable to assume sufficient courage to speak to him, concerning an affair in which I had so terribly exposed myself, that I hardly ventured to say a word all the time we were walking. Besides, the
