I became so interested that, being unobserved myself, I stayed some time observing them. I also had a vague hope that possibly Miss Leigh might appear. It was owing to my long visit that I was finally honored with my hostess's attention. As she had taken no notice of me on my first entrance beyond a formal bow and an indifferent hand-shake, I had moved on and a moment later had gotten into conversation with a young girl--large, plump, and apparently, like myself, ready to talk to any one who came near, as she promptly opened a conversation with me, a step which, I may say, I was more than ready to take advantage of. I recognized her as the girl who had been talking to Count Pushkin the evening of the concert, and whom I had seen him leave for Miss Leigh. We were soon in the midst of a conversation in which I did the questioning and she did most of the talking and she threw considerable light on a number of the visitors, whom she divided into various classes characterized in a vernacular of her own. Some were "frumps," some were "stiffs," and some were "old soaks"--the latter appellation, as I gathered, not implying any special addiction to spirituous liquors on the part of those so characterized, but only indicating the young woman's gauge of their merits. Still, she was amusing enough for a time, and appeared to be always ready to "die laughing" over everything. Like myself, she seemed rather inclined to keep her eye on the door, where I was watching for the possible appearance of the one who had brought me there. I was recalled from a slight straying of my mind from some story she was telling, by her saying: "You're a lawyer, aren't you?" Feeling rather flattered at the suggestion, and thinking that I must have struck her as intellectual-looking, I admitted the fact and asked her why she thought so. "Oh! because they're the only people who have nothing to do and attend teas--young lawyers. I have seen you walking on the street when I was driving by." "Well, you know you looked busier than I; but you weren't really," I said. I was a little taken aback by her asking if I knew Count Pushkin. "Oh, yes," I said. "I know him." This manifestly made an impression. "What do you think of him?" "What do I think of him? When I know you a little better, I will tell you," I said. "Doesn't he attend teas?" "Oh! yes, but then he is--he is something--a nobleman, you know." "Do I?" "Yes. Didn't you hear how last spring he stopped a runaway and was knocked down and dragged ever so far? Why, his face was all bruises." I could not help laughing at the recollection of Pushkin. "I saw that." "Oh! did you? Do tell me about it. It was fine, wasn't it? Don't you think he's lovely?"