"Ah, milord, how do you do? You have
come to honour me with your presence, I
perceive. It is very gracious of you."

"Oh, not at all," his lordship replied, " beauty
and talent always command my homage. It
would have been impossible for me to stay away
on such an occasion."

"Your lordship is most flattering," said the
countess, with a grin. "By the way," she
added, "your lordship honoured me with a
charming present, this riding-whip."

"A bagatelle," said his lordship.

"Oh, not at all," said the countess. "I
value it very much. I have not used it hitherto;
but I shall use it for the first time to-night, on
the occasion of my benefit."

"You do me honour," said his lordship.

"You are very kind to say so, milord—but
excusez-moi, it is time that I go and dress.
Shall I have the honour of your lordship's
company to supper in my humble château?"

"Certainly," said his lordship; " it will give
me great pleasure."

"Then adieu pour le moment," said the
countess; " we shall meet at supper."

She encountered old Kafooze in the passage
leading to her dressing-room. She was not so
gracious to him.

"Ah! ganache, ogre, corbeau, oiseau de
mauvais augure! what did you say?—that I should
have no luck?" And she struck at the old man
with her whip. Old Kafooze sprang aside with
wonderful agility, but did not avoid the blow.
The whip caught him a sharp cut across the
shoulders, and made him writhe; but he said
never a word, and slunk away as fast as he
could, putting it all down to Scorpio in that bad
conjunction with Aquarius.

Mr. M'Variety proved a true prophet. The
fine bright weather brought the people out, and
the gardens were well tilled, considering that
it was the winter season. The visitors,
however, were soon tired of promenading among
the ten thousand extra lamps, whose brilliancy
only tended to make the wretchedness of the
gardens more visible, and crushed into the circus
in a body the moment the doors were opened.
The circle and amphitheatre were speedily filled,
and by-and-by Madame Ernestine's aristocratic
friends began to drop into the boxes. Sir
William Long was there in a box by himself,
looking solemn and thoughtful. Greyfaunt was
in the box adjoining, yawning, and looking
inexpressibly bored by the performance of the Swiss
Shepherdess. Lord Carlton had settled himself
to sleep at once. Fainéant was there also, and
Mr. Thomas Tibbs, and many more, who came,
not for the sake of patronising Madame Ernestine,
but to be in the same train with Milord
Carlton and Sir William Long.

The blank, listless countenances of these
superior persons, satiated with a constant round
of pleasure, presented a remarkable contrast to
the bright happy expectant faces that glistened
under the lamps in the amphitheatre. In the
eyes of those humble folks, who had worked
hard for the shillings they had paid at the doors,
everything was delightful, beautiful, charming.
The Shepherdess in her flowered muslin skirt,
with her crook, dancing and skipping upon the
padded saddle, hailed by Mr. Edgar Greyfaunt
as a " scraggy fright," was to them an aërial
creature belonging to another sphere; the Three
Graces were real divinities in petticoats, exciting
the admiration of the male sex by the exquisite
shape of their legs, and the pinkiness of their
complexions; and of the female sex—especially
those of a domestic turn, who did their washing
at home—by the perfection exhibited in the
clear starching of their petticoats; Young
Strangler hitching at mysterious strings, and
skinning himself like a Protean onion, was a
prodigy of daring and genius; the clowns with
their old old jokes and stale antics; the master of
the ring with his curly hair, his black moustache,
and his hussar's jacket; the Frenchified looking
grooms in the long coats, who pulled aside the
curtain to admit the horses—all these persons
were objects of the most boundless admiration,
not unmixed with awe. Thunders of applause
at the daring of Young Strangler, alternated
with roars of boisterous laughter at the witticisms
of the clown. These simple-minded shilling
people, thoroughly bent upon enjoyment, were
pleased even to recognise the scent of the stable,
as it was wafted into the circus by the motion
of the curtains, that scent which caused Mr.
Edgar Greyfaunt to ejaculate many expressions
of disgust, and to fan himself with his perfumed
handkerchief.

Mr. Edgar Greyfaunt, voting all this
intolerably slow and stupid, had strolled into Sir
William Long's box. He was not a welcome
visitor. Sir William scarcely took the trouble to
return his greeting.

"What a horrid bore this is!" yawned the
dandy; "and then to have to sit out that dreadful
old harridan, Madame Ernestine! Really,
it's more than one can endure. By the way,
Long," he continued, " have you noticed that
remarkable fellow sitting opposite? Look at
him; he's the best part of the show, I think."

Sir William looked across in the direction
indicated, and saw seated in one of the lower
boxes a man of foreign appearance with grizzled
hair, cropped very short, and eyebrows and
moustache almost jet black. The dark
moustache and eyebrows in contrast with his pale
face and grey hair, gave the man a very singular
appearance, and Sir William looked at him long
and curiously.

"Quite a lusus naturæ," said the dandy;
"I'll go and ask M'Variety if he knows who
he is."

Young Strangler had concluded his Protean
performance, and retired amid a tempest of
applause; some French acrobats—" the additional
attraction"—whom Mr. Thomas Tuttleshell had
picked up at the Cirque Impérial in Paris, had
illustrated the saying of Voltaire by showing
the close resemblance between a Frenchman and
a monkey, leaving the tiger part of the likeness
to be exhibited in the Leicester-square café, to
which they retired to wrangle over their dominoes