"Where there are so many to name, it is hard to select," replied Lord Albert; "but there was the great traveller, who has been further into the interior of Africa than any one has yet penetrated. His descriptions of deserts, and skies, and camels, conveyed me beside him in his pilgrimage; the trackless sands in which no insect can find subsistence; the well by which the caravan halted, the only visible friend of the traveller throughout the vast desert; the wide canopy of starry heavens, spread out above; those heavens and those stars, of whose clear brightness we in these cloudy regions have but a faint idea; the varied and picturesque garb of guides and guards; the meekness of the patient camel; the silence of the march, unless some alarm from the fierce and wandering tribes of the country disturbed its tranquillity; and then the noise, and gesticulation, and activity, which accompanied the pitching of the tents for the night's or noon's repose, were circumstances all described and dwelt upon by the traveller, with a nervous strength and accuracy of delineation which nothing but original description can give, and which came to me with so much force and truth, and such beauty of imagery, that I thought, as he spoke, travelling was the only delightful way of passing one's life." Lady Tilney and the Comtesse Leinsengen exchanged looks, while Lord Albert was thus giving way to the natural feelings of a mind yet untinctured with the follies of fashion, and which saw no degradation to his rank in seeking and finding amusement in the society of enlightened persons. "Tell me," at length asked Lady Tilney, with an expression something like contempt, "had you no _changement de décoration_; was all your talk about camels, and deserts, and wells, and stars?"--"Ah," cried the Comtesse Leinsengen, "_avouez moi, Milor, que la nouvelle du jour vaut been mieux_." Lord Albert smiled, and allowed that this was amusing too in its way; but he added, "We had a change of divertissement I assure you, after dinner; _Il cantar che nel' anima si sente_ took the place of conversation for a time, and Mr. M--" "Oh he is well enough," said Lady Tilney, "in his place, and sings charmingly;" (for the person in question was the Anacreon of her party, and sometimes tuned his lays to subjects on which party feeling and political animosity loved to cast derision)--"he is well enough."--"And sings, do you not think," rejoined Lord Albert, "divinely? I have heard others sing finely--sweetly--scientifically--even feelingly; but such lightness, such magic bursts of imagery, such painting of sounds, I never heard but in his song." "And you have heard de Sontag: you heard her dis last evening?" "Oh yes, often; I heard her at Vienna before she came to England." "Well, and you prefer dis little gentleman--_tout les gens sont respectables_;" and she sneered, as if in contradiction to the words.