“True, true,” said Churchill, with a solemn, pathetic shake of the head. “Gentlemen and noblemen should consider before they make these low matches to save their studs, or their souls, or their entailed estates. Whatever be the necessity, there can be no apology for outraging all _bienséance_. Necessity has no law, but it should have some decency. Think of, bringing upon a foolish elder brother--But we won’t be personal.” “No, don’t pray, Horace,” said Lady Cecilia, moving on. “But think, only think, my dear Lady Cecilia; think what it must be to be ‘_How-d’ye-doed_,’ and to be ‘dear sistered’ by such bodies as these in public.” “Sad! sad!” said Lady Cecilia. “The old French nobility,” continued Churchill, “used to call these low money-matches, ‘mettre du fumier sur nos terres.’” “Dirty work at best,” said Lady Cecilia. “But still,” said Horace, “it might be done with decency if not with majesty.” “But in the midst of all this,” said Lady Cecilia, “I want some ice very much for myself, and for Helen more.” “I have a notion we shall find some here,” replied he, “if you will come on this way--in this _sanctum sanctorum_ of Lady Katrine’s.” He led them on to a little inner apartment, where, as he said, Lady Katrine Hawksby and her set do always scandal take, and sometimes tea.--“Tea and punch,” continued he, “you know, in London now is quite _à la Française_, and it is astonishing to me, who am but a man, what strong punch ladies can take.” “Only when it is iced,” said Lady Cecilia, smiling. “Be it so,” said he,--“very refreshing ice, and more refreshing scandal, and here we have both in perfection. Scandal, hot and hot, and ice, cold and cold.” By this time they had reached the entrance to what he called Lady Katrine’s _sanctum sanctorum_, where she had gathered round the iced punch and tea-table a select party, whom she had drawn together with the promise of the other half of a half-published report,--a report in which “_I promessi Sposi_” and “_La belle fiancée_” were implicated! “Stop here one moment,” cried Churchill, “one moment longer. Let us see before we are seen. Look in, look in pray, at this group. Lady Katrine herself on the sofa, finger up--holding forth; and the deaf old woman stretching forward to hear, while the other, with the untasted punch, sits suspended in curiosity. ‘What can it be?’ she says, or seems to say. Now, now, see the pretty one’s hands and eyes uplifted, and the ugly one, with that look of horror, is exclaiming, ‘You don’t say so, my dear Lady Katrine!’ Admirable creatures! Cant and scandal personified! I wish Wilkie were here--worth any money to him.” “And he should call it ‘The scandal party,’” said Lady Cecilia. “He told me he never could venture upon a subject unless he could give it a good name.”