present in no very high favour. The truth is, she is a charming woman,
but I never expected to see her in Germany, and there was some little
commission of hers which I neglected, some little order for Eau de
Cologne, or a message about a worked pocket-handkerchief, which I
utterly forgot: and then, I never wrote! and you know. Grey, that these
little sins of omission are never forgiven by women."

"My dear friend, De Konigstein, one pinch! one pinch!" chirped out a
little old odd-looking man, with a poudre head, and dressed in a costume
in which the glories of the vieille cour seemed to retire with
reluctance. A diamond ring twinkled on the snuffy hand, which was
encircled by a rich ruffle of dirty lace. The brown coat was not
modern, and yet not quite such an one as was worn by its master when he
went to see the King dine in public at Versailles before the Revolution:
large silver buckles still adorned the well-polished shoes; and silk
stockings, whose hue was originally black, were picked out with
clock-work of gold.

"My dear Marquis, I am most happy to see you; will you try the
boulangero?"

"With pleasure! A-a-h! what a box! a Louis-Quatorze, I think?"

"Oh, no! by no means so old."

"Pardon me, my dear De Konigstein; I think a Louis-Quatorze."

"I bought it in Sicily."

"A-a-h!" slowly exclaimed the little man, shaking his head.