"We sometimes took advantage of a fine evening to form a party in the woods. On an occasion when the Chevalier de la Lance was staying with us accompanied by his fifteen-year-old daughter, one of the prettiest of our Verdun belles, we had one of these excursions to the forest. After dinner some of the most musical of our party were requested by the young belle to enliven the evening by music. Madame M., my hostess's daughter, had a most beautiful voice, and had, of course, enjoyed all the advantages to be derived from Parisian masters. Whilst she was singing, we all observed that a nightingale perched upon one of the neighbouring trees continued silent; the moment she stopped, he began to warble forth his 'wood-notes wild.' This occurred not once, but repeatedly. He was far, however, from showing the same attention to the chevalier. Apparently not entertaining an equally good opinion of the old man's musical talents, from the moment that gentleman began to take up the song, the nightingale began also, and evidently did all in his power to drown the chevalier's voice!" Another diversion at Ligny was _la chasse_. Monsieur M. was a great sportsman and very fond of shooting; he kept a small pack of hounds and seldom went out with them without inviting young Stanhope to accompany him. "One day," relates John Stanhope, "we were out fox-hunting on foot, our business being to head the fox and--_horresco referens_--to shoot him! The hounds were running, and all of a sudden came to a check and ceased giving tongue. At that moment Lord Boyle, who was out with us, and who was not far from me, levelled his gun and took, as it proved, a deadly aim. I looked at him in some astonishment, at a loss to imagine what game he could have seen when the hounds were not running. He fired, and then throwing up his arms in horror, cried out, at the same time stamping and raving, 'Oh! Monsieur M., I have killed your best dog!' Vexed as I was at such a disaster, I could not help laughing at the gesticulations of my friend, and at Paddy, with eyes quick enough for anything, having mistaken a _dog for a fox_. It was quite a practical Bull. No one could have behaved better than Monsieur M. He concealed his regret and said everything in his power to reassure and recompose the distracted culprit."