We remain in raptures over Paris, but are délicieusement fatigués, being engagés each day and evening in the salons, opéra, théatre, or some private entertainment, all in the same day. Our mouchoirs are become sorely worn, exhausted with the burthen of every night declaring our attentions and our intentions in some way or other to the gallant French attentifs, who seem to live or die, depending on our notice. Our voices are similarly depleted from the requirement of shouting across the largest rooms to people who are unknown to us, but who appear fashionable. We are received politely by the very reserved French, who hang about one in an intimate degagée manner. These beaux whisper their pretty speeches in a singular admixture of French, Italian, German, Mandarin, and Hindoo, relieved now and then with a little English; we are nearly overcome with the mortification of being proficient in only one language at a time. Daily we meet with such a variety of dress, despondency, and decorum, that it would amaze you to find it all in one city, small as Paris is. Our time is much in demand, so much so that we often sleep all day, emerging only at night to spare ourselves the exertion of remaining dans nos lits, as the most fashionable women have adopted the polite custom of receiving their visitors en chambre at all hours. The ladies here are particularly œconomical in their dress, exhibiting such commendable frugality as to forego covering the entirety of their charms, contriving to preserve a sum which, in turn, purchases such a forest of decoration for the head, that it is no wonder only a little money remains for the completion of their costume.

I should not neglect the men, who are similarly abstemious as to the cut of their cloathing, using their savings to purchase the most remarkably large looking-glasses you ever saw. We had planned to bring home several, but, alas, not even one would fit in our incommodious chaise. My own husband is so very disobliging that he refuses to flatter ourselves and our chevaliers through the simple expedient of imitation—notwithstanding that his vêtements modestes are ganz outré, I assure you, kein quizzing-glass, a musical snuff-box, or—dare I speak it?—perfume; he further disobliges us by assuming the posture more appropriate to a footman, is clear in his speech (not a thingle thyllable will he lithp), and remains thus disagreeable for the entire evening. You can easily believe that we would not pass a single minuto in such company, except that his great height makes our own attitudes appear all the more gracefully degagée. In any case, you will not recognise us auf wiedersehen, we are become so molto amélioré by our travels. Yours, &c.,

THE EAMILLE D’ARCY

CHAP. 4.