OR, THE NEW GENERATION. BY B. DISRAELI, ESQ. M.P. AUTHOR OF "CONTARINI FLEMING." IN THREE VOLS. VOL. III. LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER; GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1844. CONINGSBY. BOOK VI. CHAPTER I. Lord THE knowledge that Sidonia was at Paris greatly agitated Lady Monmouth. She received the intimation indeed from Coningsby at dinner with sufficient art to conceal her emotion. Monmouth himself was quite pleased at the announcement. Sidonia was his especial favourite; he knew so much, had such an excellent judgment, and was so rich. He had always VOL. III. B something to tell you, was the best man in the world to bet on, and never wanted anything. A perfect character according to the Monmouth ethics. In the evening of the day that Coningsby met Sidonia, Lady Monmouth made a little visit to the charming Duchess de G de G-t who was "at home" every other night in her pretty hotel, with its embroidered white satin draperies, its fine old cabinets, and ancestral portraits of famous name, brave marshals and bright princesses of the olden time, on its walls. These receptions without form, yet full of elegance, are what English "at homes" were before the continental war, though now, by a curious perversion of terms, the easy domestic title distinguishes in England a formally prepared and elaborately collected assembly, in which everything and every person are careful to be as little "homely" as possible. In France, on the contrary, 'tis on these occasions, and in this manner, that society carries on that degree and kind of intercourse which in England we attempt awkwardly to maintain by the medium of that unpopular species of visitation styled a morning call; which all complain that they have either to make or to endure. Nowhere was this species of reception more happily conducted than at the Duchess de Gt. The rooms though small, decorated with taste, brightly illumined; a handsome and gracious hostess, the Duke the very pearl of gentlemen, and sons and daughters worthy of such parents. Every moment some one came in, and some one went away. In your way from a dinner to a ball, you stopped to exchange agreeable "on dits." It seemed that every woman was pretty, every man a wit. Sure you were to find yourself surrounded by celebrities, and men were welcomed there if they were clever before they were famous, which showed it was a house that regarded intellect, and did not seek merely to gratify its vanity by being surrounded by the distinguished. Enveloped in a rich Indian shawl and leaning back on a sofa, Lady Monmouth was engaged in conversation with the courtly and classic Count M-é, when on casually turning her head, she |