Then Desvoeux would come (oftener than ever, since this Historical Quadrille gave a new excuse for frequent calls) and turn everything into ridicule. 'As usual,' he told them, 'Mrs. Fotheringham has been trying to drive a bargain. The two young ladies are to go as Mediæval Princesses; and poor Giroflont, who had come all the way from Calcutta to dress the ladies' hair for the Fancy Ball, stipulated for his accustomed five rupees a-head. Fotheringham _mère_ stuck out for three. Giroflont rejected the suggestion with scorn. "Impossible, madame," he said, "ce sont des coiffures historiques!" So exit Mrs. Fotheringham in a fury.' 'And the poor girls will have to go as milkmaids,' said Mrs. Vereker. 'What a shame! And what a mother!' 'And what a father!' said Desvoeux. 'He has just been to interview the Agent and has made us both extremely ill. Such vapid dulness! He spoke of virtue--not the gods More purely when they wish to charm Pallas and Juno sitting by; And with a sweeping of the arm, And a lack-lustre dead-blue eye Devolved his rounded periods.' 'What a comfort you must find it, Mr. Desvoeux,' said Mrs. Vereker, 'to fly for refuge to eyes that are neither lack-lustre nor dead-blue! Now I come to think of it, though, I believe dead-blue is just the shade of mine.' 'Yours!' said Desvoeux, in a tone of fervour which spoke volumes. 'These poor girls!' cried Maud, 'how shamefully they are dressed! Perfect Quakeresses!' 'Quakeresses!' answered Desvoeux; 'but Quakeresses are too charming, dear little tender doves, in the softest silk and freshest muslin. I suffered agonies once upon a time on account of one.' 'Profane!' cried Mrs. Vereker; 'Quakers are really a sort of monks and nuns, only that they happen to have husbands and wives.' 'Yes,' said Desvoeux, 'monasticism without its single recommendation!' 'Rude man!' Mrs. Vereker cried; 'let us send him away, Maud. I should like to know, sir, what would become of you without us married women?' 'What indeed?' cried Desvoeux; 'but, you know, when the Pope offered Petrarch a dispensation to marry, he declined on the ground that he could not write poetry to his wife.' 'That reminds me,' said Mrs. Vereker, 'that I must write some prose to my husband, and Mrs. Sutton some to hers; and the post goes in half-an-hour. Mr. Desvoeux, you must really go.' 'I obey,' said Desvoeux, with a sigh; 'my exile from paradise is cheered by the thought that I am coming back at four to take Mrs. Sutton for a ride.' CHAPTER XXXIII. FACILIS DESCENSUS AVERNI. Birds, yet in freedom, shun the net Which love around your haunts hath set.