'Eighty thousand! Ah, Heaven! think of that!' sighed the poor Baronet; 'if she were tenderly inclined, mademoiselle might make me the happiest man in France, and her paternal coat would look very well when quartered with the lion rampant of Home _argent_ armed and langued _gules_.' 'But think of De Guerchi, whose heart might break, though Chatillon wears her garter.' 'Pshaw! is not one pretty girl as good as another, Viscount?' 'If their purses be of the same weight.' 'Of course, Viscount. Ouf! how mercenary we have become among these Parisians. But beware, gentlemen, we have a couple of abbés here,' said Home, lowering his voice, and to mention my name with that of Mademoiselle de Chevreuse in their hearing might bring upon me the eyes of monseigneur the Archbishop of Paris; and there are certain devilish contrivances in France known as _lettres de cachet_, which lead to an unpleasant place called the Bastille.' 'Ten devils!' said the Viscount; 'don't think of them.' 'The archbishop was a capital swordsman when he was known simply as the little Abbé Gondi; but I have no wish to measure swords or strength with him now.' 'Here comes the dinner at last,' said Dundrennan, flinging aside his belt and gauntlets; 'bravo, maitre d'hôtel! are all these fine children yours?' 'Tush, Viscount, don't ask unpleasant questions,' said Cheyne, still in his spirit of banter; 'they are, at least, the children of his wife, Madame la Comtesse de Champagne, our generous lady of the signboard.' And so, amid gaiety and laughter, heedless of the two reverend abbés who sat in the corner, we sat down to dinner. It was then the custom in France, when one was invited to dinner, to send a servant with one's knife, fork, and spoon, as these things were never provided for guests. We all produced our apparatus from our pockets, and attacked the viands, as we would have done the enemy. The two abbés, who had been quite silent since we entered the room, now began to talk while our jaws were otherwise employed; but as they invariably became silent when any of us spoke, and sat in shadow, with their faces turned from us, I conceived, without knowing why, an instinctive mistrust of their character, and watched them narrowly. One was dark in complexion; the other fair, and ten years younger in face and manner; but the knowledge that the costume of an _abbé_ was then the usual attire, or disguise of French gentlemen when travelling, rendered me wary of drawing attention to their presence, or to their conversation, the scraps of which were somewhat to the following effect. 'She is very lovely, with her violet eyes and golden hair,' said the younger abbé; 'Marie Louise herself is not superior to her!' 'Ah, you know her, then--this Madame de Charost?' asked the elder and darker abbé. 'Too well for my own peace; but you smile.' 'She is one of the most faithful wives in Paris.' 'To her husband?' 'No, to his dear friend----' 'Diable! who is he?'