“Of course I don't,” said she, pettishly. “I'm talking of Pracontal. I 'm sure he sings--he says not, or only for himself; and so I told him he must sing for me, and he replied, 'Willingly, for I shall then be beside myself with happiness.' Just fancy a Frenchman trying to say a smart thing in English. I wonder what the Culduffs will think of him?” “Are they likely to have an opportunity for an opinion?” “Most certainly they are. I have asked him for Friday. He will be the seventh at our little dinner.” “Not possible, Gusta! You could n't have done this!” “I have, I give you my word. Is there any reason why I shouldn't?” “All the reason in the world. You ask your relatives to a little dinner, which implies extreme intimacy and familiarity; and you invite to meet them a man whom, by every sentiment of self-interest, they must abhor.” “_Cara mia_, I can't listen to such a vulgar argument. Monsieur de Pracontal has charming personal qualities. I chatted about an hour with him, and he is delightfully amusing; he 'll no more obtrude his claims or his pretensions than Lord Culduff will speak of his fifty years of diplomatic service. There is no more perfect triumph of good-breeding than when it enables us to enjoy each other's society irrespective of scores of little personal accidents, political estrangements, and the like; and to show you that I have not been the inconsiderate creature you think me, I actually did ask Pracontal if he thought that meeting the Culduffs would be awkward or unpleasant for him, and he said he was overjoyed at the thought; that I could not have done him a favor he would prize more highly.” “_He_, of course, is very vain of the distinction. It is an honor he never could have so much as dreamed of.” “I don't know that. I half suspect he is a gentleman who does not take a depreciatory estimate of either himself or his prospects.” “At all events, Gusta, there shall be no ambuscade in the matter, that I 'm determined on. The Culduffs shall know whom they are to meet. I 'll write a note to them before I sleep.” “How angry you are for a mere nothing! Do you imagine that the people who sit round a dinner-table have sworn vows of eternal friendship before the soup?” “You are too provoking, too thoughtless,” said the other, with much asperity of voice; and taking up her gloves and her fan from the chimney-piece, she moved rapidly away and left the room. CHAPTER XLI. SOME “SALON DIPLOMACIES” Lord Culduff, attired in a very gorgeous dressing-gown and a cap whose gold tassel hung down below his ear, was seated at a writing-table, every detail of whose appliances was an object of art. From a little golden censer at his side a light blue smoke curled, that diffused a delicious perfume through the room, for the noble Lord held it that these adventitious aids invariably penetrated through the sterner material of thought, and relieved by their graceful influence the more labored efforts of the intellect.