"Was, madam; nay, speak not of yourself in the past, '_Fuit Ilium_;' say not that such charms are for ever withdrawn from the public eye--that the flame of the candles no longer shines upon that beauty--that some selfish churl, some avaricious hoarder of loveliness, has appropriated so fair a being for his own exclusive property." "It is true, sir. I who had once half the town at my feet am now mewed up in a stuffy parlour, and scolded if I venture to exchange half a dozen sentences with some aristocratic pretty fellow, or to venture a guinea or so at ombre." "Soho!" exclaimed Topsparkle, becoming suddenly intent. "Your name, madam, your name, I entreat." "I was Coralie Legrand, leading dancer in the first division of the ballet at the Royal Haymarket Opera. I am Mrs. Fétis, your valet's ill-used wife; and it is on my husband's account that I venture--" "Madam, you have the strongest claim upon me. Fétis is an old servant--" "He is an old servant. If I had known how old before I married him--" "O, madam, he is not a septuagenarian; Fétis is my junior." "He looks your lordship's senior; but it is not so much his age I object to. I would forgive him for being ninety if he were only indulgent and generous." "Is he capable of meanness to so bewitching a wife?" "Yes, sir, he is horribly stingy. At this hour I am being dunned to death by my next-door neighbour, to whom I owe a paltry fifteen guineas. She is Madame Furbelow, the Court milliner, a person of some ton, and she and I were dearest friends till this money trouble parted us--but 'tis shocking not to be able to pay one's debts of honour. Yet, to my certain knowledge, Fétis has lost hundreds in a single night to some of his fine gentlemen customers, who fool him by pretending to treat him as a friend. There was the wild Duke of Wharton, for instance, and his club of intriguers, the Schemers they called themselves, a committee of gallants, who used to hold their meetings at our house and plot mischief against poor innocent women--how to carry off silly heiresses and to conquer rich widows. His Grace had a bank at faro, and that foolish husband of mine was a frequent loser." "He must have won sometimes, madam. He must have had his lucky nights, like the rest of us." "Then he kept his good luck to himself, sir; I never heard of it. He said he ought to have the devil's luck in love since he was so cursedly unlucky at cards and dice. And then, though he has the effrontery to deny me a few guineas, I have heard him boast that he has claims upon you which you must always honour, that your purse was a golden stream which could never run dry." "O, he has boasted, has he, the poor foolish fellow, boasted of his power over me?"