“I defy the coxcombs!” cried Triplet, with reviving spirit. “But real criticism I respect, honor, and bow to. Such as yours, madam; or such as that sweet lady's at Mr. Vane's would have been; or, in fact, anybody's who appreciates me. Oh, madam, I wanted to ask you, was it not strange your not being at Mr. Vane's, after all, to-day?” “I was at Mr. Vane's, Triplet.” “You were? Why, I came with my verses, and she said you were not there! I will go fetch the verses.” “No, no! Who said I was not there?” “Did I not tell you? The charming young lady who helped me with her own hand to everything on the table. What wine that gentleman possesses!” “Was it a young lady, Triplet?” “Not more than two-and-twenty, I should say. “In a traveling-dress?” “I could not see her dress, madam, for her beauty--brown hair, blue eyes, charming in conversation--” “Ah! What did she tell you?” “She told me, madam--Ahem!” “Well, what did you tell her? And what did she answer?” “I told her that I came with verses for you, ordered by Mr. Vane. That he admired you. I descanted, madam, on your virtues, which had made him your slave.” “Go on,” said Mrs. Woffington, encouraging him with a deceitful smile. “Tell me all you told her.” “That you were sitting to me for your portrait, the destination of which was not doubtful. That I lived at 10, Hercules Buildings.” “You told that lady all this?” “I give my honor. She was so kind, I opened my heart to her. But tell me now, madam,” said Triplet, joyously dancing round the Woffington volcano, “do you know this charming lady?” “Yes.” “I congratulate you, madam. An acquaintance worthy even of you; and there are not many such. Who is she, madam?” continued Triplet, lively with curiosity. “Mrs. Vane,” was the quiet, grim answer. “Mrs. Vane? His mother? No--am I mad? His sister! Oh, I see, his--” “His wife!” “His wife! Why, then, Mr. Vane's married?” “Yes.” “Oh, look there!--Oh, look here now! Well, but, good Heavens! she wasn't to know you were there, perhaps?” “No.” “But then I let the cat out of the bag?” “Yes.” “But, good gracious! there will be some serious mischief!” “No doubt of it.” “And it is all my fault?” “Yes.” “I've played the deuce with their married happiness?” “Probably.” “And ten to one if you are not incensed against me too?” Mrs. Woffington replied by looking him in the face, and turning her back upon him. She walked hastily to the window, threw it open, and looked out of it, leaving poor Triplet to very unpleasant reflections. She was so angry with him she dared not trust herself to speak. “Just my luck,” thought he. “I had a patron and a benefactress; I have betrayed them both.” Suddenly an idea struck him. “Madam,” said he, timorously, “see what these fine gentlemen are! What business had he, with a wife at home, to come and fall in love with you? I do it forever in my plays--I am obliged--they would be so dull else; but in _real_ life to do it is abominable.”