We must, however, permit the Marquis to describe them to Greenwood—which he did in whispers. "That fair girl on the right," he said, "with the brilliant complexion, auburn hair, and red cherry lips, is from the north—a charming specimen of Scotch beauty. Mark how taper is her waist, and yet how ample her bust! She is only nineteen, and has been in my house for the last three years. Her voice is charming; and she sings some of her native airs with exquisite taste. The one next to her, with the brown hair, and who is somewhat stout in form, though, as you perceive, not the less active on that account, is an English girl—a beauty of Lancashire. She is twenty-two, and appeared four years ago on the stage. From thence she passed into the keeping of a bishop, who took lodgings for her in great Russell Street, Bloomsbury. The Right Reverend Prelate one evening invited me to sup there; and three days afterwards she removed to my house." "Not with the consent of the bishop, I should imagine?" observed Greenwood, laughing. "Oh! no—no," returned the Marquis, chuckling and coughing at the same time. "The one who is next to her—the third from the left, I mean—is an Irish girl. Look how beautifully she is made. What vigorous, strong, and yet elegantly formed limbs! And what elasticity—what airy lightness in the dance! Did you observe that pirouette? How the drapery spread out from her waist like a circular fan! Is she not a charming creature?" "She is, indeed!" exclaimed Greenwood. "Tall, elegant, and graceful." "And her tongue is just tipped with enough of the Irish accent—I cannot call it _brogue_ in so sweet a being—to render her conversation peculiarly interesting. And now mark her smile! Oh! the coquette—what a roguish look! Has she not wickedness in those sparkling black eyes?" "She seems an especial favourite, methinks," whispered Greenwood. "Yes—I have a sneaking preference for her, I must admit," answered the Marquis. "But I also like my little French girl, who is dancing next to Kathleen. Mademoiselle Anna is an exquisite creature—and such a wanton! What passion is denoted by her burning glances! How graceful are her movements: survey her now—she beats them all in that soft abandonment of limb which she just displayed. Her mother was a widow, and sold the lovely Anna to a French Field-Marshal, when she was only fifteen. The Field-Marshal, who was also a duke and enormously rich, placed her in a magnificent mansion in the Chausseé d'Antin, and settled a handsome sum upon her. But, at his death, she ran through it all, became involved in debt, and was glad to accept my offers two years ago." "She is very captivating," said Greenwood. "How gracefully she rounds her dazzling white arms!"