"Upon my word," replied Lord Falmouth, with his grave irony, "your judgment is a true one, as true as that we are now standing at noonday in the middle of a thick forest listening to the songs of the birds." Then he added, seriously: "The most infernal thing about her is her falseness. I am quite sure that she does not believe a word of all she said to us about Scott and Byron, for she has about as much heart as that," said he, striking with his cane the base of a colossal Japanese vase filled with flowers that he was standing near; "or rather," he said, taking from the vase a beautiful crimson camellia, and holding it up to me; "she resembles this flower,--colour and brilliance, nothing more; no more soul than this flower has perfume. After all, though, when she wants to, she can talk very charmingly. But people say you should hear her when one of her guests has just left,--how she can take them to pieces! One of these days we will play at that game; you shall go out and I will stay behind, then I will tell you all that she has said about you, and you shall do as much sometime for me." Just then our carriages came up. Lord Falmouth went off to the club to make a night of it; after a moment's hesitation as to accompanying him, I decided to go home. In spite of Lord Falmouth's opinion and what I myself had said about Madame de Pënâfiel, I had quite agreed with her, and what she said about Byron had made a deep impression on me; for I thought that I detected hidden under this discussion, the signs of mental anguish and heartfelt loneliness, and this gave me much to reflect upon, because I believed I had perceived something of her true character, which was absolutely in opposition to all that they said about Madame de Pënâfiel. CHAPTER XVIII ON WHAT THE WORLD SAID AND ON COQUETRY There is nothing more difficult, not to say impossible, than to successfully defend in society a poor young woman, who is so unfortunate as not only to occupy a prominent position both as to name and fortune, but who is beautiful both in face and figure, has a remarkable mind, is talented and extremely well informed. When once she has unchained the world's wrath, on account of this insolent reunion of advantages, her every action, the best as well as the most unimportant, her virtues, her graces, all are criticised with the most artistic perfidy, and people are only lenient in regard to her defects. There is nothing more saddening than to observe the contrary effect of this persistent belittling. If the woman against whom such unanimous hatred is shown is the mistress of a splendid home, every one is eager to go there, no effort is too great to gain admittance to her circle of friends. Is she considered too fast? What does it matter? All the mothers take their daughters to call on her, no doubt in order to return good for the evil that they themselves have done, and to show that they pay no attention to the scandals they themselves have spread abroad.