“Were I sure that an acceptance would not be an unpardonable imposition, I should like nothing more,” replied the Comte to Elizabeth with a low bow. “You know enough of our society here to know that it is possible to spend the entirety of an evening in an elegant salon, with otherwise intelligent company, and exchange no more than ten words of sense or information in an hour altogether. Such an evening I have experienced this night. It is an uncommon pleasure to speak with friends who are so kind as to actually listen, and reply with information and new ideas, and whose eyes are not forever searching about the room for a more influential or agreeable object for their conversation. Mrs. Darcy, if you are sincere in your kind offer, I would accept your invitation with great pleasure.”

During this exchange, Georgiana studiously examined her music-book. Elizabeth noticed her change in colour and quickly indicated to the Comte that he was to occupy a seat next to herself, sparing Georgiana the embarrassment of leaving her instrument and perforce joining the conversation. Even so, it was impossible for Georgiana to continue her playing, and she shortly rose and took a seat by her brother. At length, tea was brought in, and Georgiana naturally rose to assist Elizabeth in serving their guests. As she handed the Comte his cup, he took the dish in such a way as to momentarily touch her fingers, and, looking up at her, made a point to ask her how she found Paris society. Georgiana’s blush of spontaneous confusion did nothing to lessen her attraction in lieu of the more knowing contrivances of the demoiselles assiduously courting the Comte. After some few syllables, he moved his hand to take the dish, releasing Georgiana with a smile that would have had the female half of Parisian society in a state of complete insensibility.