'
'Pooh! pooh! think not of this. No one blames you. You are still a
universal favourite. But I would recommend you, nevertheless, to take me
as your cavalier.'
'You are too generous, or too bold. No, man! I am tired of flirtation,
and really think, for variety's sake, I must fall in love. After all,
there is nothing like the delicious dream, though it be but a dream.
Spite of my discretion, I sometimes tremble lest I should end by making
myself a fool, with some grand passion. You look serious. Fear not for
the young Duke. He is a dazzling gentleman, but not a hero exactly to my
taste.'
CHAPTER VII.
_At Castle Dacre_
THE moment that was to dissolve the spell which had combined and
enchanted so many thousands of human beings arrived. Nobles and
nobodies, beauties and blacklegs, dispersed in all directions. The Duke
of Burlington carried off the French princes and the Protocolis, the
Bloomerlys and the Vaticans, to his Paradise of Marringworth. The
Fitz-pompeys cantered off with the Shropshires; omen of felicity to
the enamoured St. Maurice and the enamouring Sophy. Annesley and Squib
returned to their pates.
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