They now proceeded to the apartment which had been lately fitted up for refreshments, and which was so full of company that they entered it with difficulty. And here they were again joined by Minerva, who, taking Cecilia's hand, said, “Lord, how glad I am you've got away from that frightful black mask! I can't conceive who he is; nobody can find out; it's monstrous odd, but he has not spoke a word all night, and he makes such a shocking noise when people touch him, that I assure you it's enough to put one in a fright.” “And pray,” cried the schoolmaster, disguising his voice, “how camest thou to take the helmet of Minerva for a fool's cap?” “Lord, I have not,” cried she, innocently, “why, the whole dress is Minerva's; don't you see?” “My dear child,” answered he, “thou couldst as well with that little figure pass for a Goliath, as with that little wit for a Pallas.” Their attention was now drawn from the goddess of wisdom to a mad Edgar, who so vehemently ran about the room calling out “Poor Tom's a cold!” that, in a short time, he was obliged to take off his mask, from an effect, not very delicate, of the heat! Soon after, a gentleman desiring some lemonade whose toga spoke the consular dignity, though his broken English betrayed a native of France, the schoolmaster followed him, and, with reverence the most profound, began to address him in Latin; but, turning quick towards him, he gaily said, “_Monsieur, j'ai l'honneur de representer Ciceron, le grand Ciceron, pere de sa patrie! mais quoique j'ai cet honneur-la, je ne suit pas pedant!--mon dieu, Monsieur, je ne parle que le Francois dans la bonne compagnie_!” And, politely bowing, he went on. Just then Cecilia, while looking about the room for Mrs Harrel, found herself suddenly pinched by the cheek, and hastily turning round, perceived again her friend the chimney-sweeper, who, laughing, cried, “Only me! don't be frightened. Have something to tell you;--had no luck!--got never a husband yet! can't find one! looked all over, too; sharp as a needle. Not one to be had! all catched up!” “I am glad to hear it, sir,” said Cecilia, somewhat vexed by observing the white domino attentively listening; “and I hope, therefore, you will give yourself no farther trouble.” “Pretty duck!” cried he, chucking her under the chin; “never mind, don't be cast down; get one at last. Leave it to me. Nothing under a plum; won't take up with less. Good-by, ducky, good-by! must go home now,--begin to be nodding.” And then, repeating his kind caresses, he walked away. “Do you think, then,” said the white domino, “more highly of Mr Briggs for discernment and taste than of any body?” “I hope not!” answered she, “for low indeed should I then think of the rest of the world!”