“I think not,” answered my uncle. “It would be a mistake to overwhelm one by attentions which are a pleasure to many.” “My view, exactly, and very neatly expressed,” cried Brummell. “Is it fair to break a dozen hearts in order to intoxicate one with rapture? I’m off to the Continent next week.” “Bailiffs?” asked one of his companions. “Too bad, Pierrepoint. No, no; it is pleasure and instruction combined. Besides, it is necessary to go to Paris for your little things, and if there is a chance of the war breaking out again, it would be well to lay in a supply.” “Quite right,” said my uncle, who seemed to have made up his mind to outdo Brummell in extravagance. “I used to get my sulphur-coloured gloves from the Palais Royal. When the war broke out in ’93 I was cut off from them for nine years. Had it not been for a lugger which I specially hired to smuggle them, I might have been reduced to English tan.” “The English are excellent at a flat-iron or a kitchen poker, but anything more delicate is beyond them.” “Our tailors are good,” cried my uncle, “but our stuffs lack taste and variety. The war has made us more _rococo_ than ever. It has cut us off from travel, and there is nothing to match travel for expanding the mind. Last year, for example, I came upon some new waist-coating in the Square of San Marco, at Venice. It was yellow, with the prettiest little twill of pink running through it. How could I have seen it had I not travelled? I brought it back with me, and for a time it was all the rage.” “The Prince took it up.” “Yes, he usually follows my lead. We dressed so alike last year that we were frequently mistaken for each other. It tells against me, but so it was. He often complains that things do not look as well upon him as upon me, but how can I make the obvious reply? By the way, George, I did not see you at the Marchioness of Dover’s ball.” “Yes, I was there, and lingered for a quarter of an hour or so. I am surprised that you did not see me. I did not go past the doorway, however, for undue preference gives rise to jealousy.” “I went early,” said my uncle, “for I had heard that there were to be some tolerable _débutantes_. It always pleases me vastly when I am able to pass a compliment to any of them. It has happened, but not often, for I keep to my own standard.”