"I feel rather distressed, dear Fred," she said, after giving me an amusing sketch of the society about her, "at the profoundly moral tone of your letter, and fear you must be in debt, (not far out there) for you never were very serious about any love affair; tell me what is the matter? You know we are rich, and Harry always liked you. I have been so bored about some absurd speech of Egerton's at Exeter Hall; they tell me, (for I never read such things) he said, 'the ministry had delivered the nation, bound hand and foot to Beelzebub, where they sent an Ambassador to Antichrist (meaning the Pope);' do find out if this is true, for the people here have discovered he is my brother, and the women always cross themselves when I enter a room, which is so absurd, and disagreeable: the men only laugh. I am much better, and we think of returning to England next spring. I wish you would get leave of absence and run over to us, for the winter. It is too dreadful to think of your being condemned to remain at that horrible place; would it not be better to live altogether at A----, if you must be near your Regiment. Talking of you the other night to Count Alphonso Di Montibello, he said there was a famous painter, a great ally of his, who used to study here, now living at A----; do you know any thing of him? "Now, dear Fred, good bye, write soon again to me; ever your affectionate sister, "Mary F. Wentworth." "P.S.--Harry desires his remembrances; I had almost forgotten Lady Desmond; of course I know her, every one does; she is a most charming person, and creates a perfect _furore_ here; such taste, and certainly the most ladylike Irishwoman I ever met; she has refused a perfect army of Counts and Marquises. _Cela va sans dire_; but if report speaks true, that nice creature Sir Charles Seyton shared the same fate. They say Adolphus Somerset, one of our _attachés_, got sick leave, after offering his little diplomatic self for her acceptance, and receiving one fixed look from her dark eyes! I have a theory of my own that Lady Desmond, calm, proud, and cold as she seems, has a _tendresse_ for a certain _blasé_ peer, at present among our most prominent notorieties; he piques himself on his cynicism, and is rather in the Satanic style; very ridiculous I think! They tell me dreadful stories of him. Lady Desmond talks of travelling with us as far as Florence next spring; if you have any _engouement_ for her, get rid of it, I would advise you, for she had some trouble to recall your memory to hers, and seemed quite astonished when I told her you had made any enquiries about her. Adieu once more." How thoroughly characteristic her letter is of the life she leads, kindly and polished, but trifling and self-absorbed! I must ask Winter about this Count Alphonso di ----, what is it?