She was a fine-looking woman, certainly (holding down her eyes, and talking perpetually of _mes trente-deux ans_); and Pogson, the wicked young dog! who professed not to care for young misses, saying they smelt so of bread-and-butter, declared, at once, that the lady was one of _his_ beauties; in fact, when he spoke to us about her, he said, ‘She’s a slap-up thing, I tell you; a reg’lar good one; _one of my sort_!’ And such was Pogson’s credit in all commercial rooms, that one of _his_ sort was considered to pass all other sorts. During dinner-time, Mr. Pogson was profoundly polite and attentive to the lady at his side, and kindly communicated to her, as is the way with the best-bred English on their first arrival ‘on the Continent,’ all his impressions regarding the sights and persons he had seen. Such remarks having been made during half an hour’s ramble about the ramparts and town, and in the course of a walk down to the custom-house, and a confidential communication with the commissionaire, must be, doubtless, very valuable to Frenchmen in their own country: and the lady listened to Pogson’s opinions, not only with benevolent attention, but actually, she said, with pleasure and delight. Mr. Pogson said that there was no such thing as good meat in France, and that’s why they cooked their victuals in this queer way: he had seen many soldiers parading about the place, and expressed a true Englishman’s abhorrence of an armed force; not that he feared such fellows as these--little whipper-snappers--our men would eat them. Hereupon the lady admitted that our Guards were angels, but that Monsieur must not be too hard upon the French; ‘her father was a General of the Emperor.’ Pogson felt a tremendous respect for himself, at the notion that he was dining with a General’s daughter, and instantly ordered a bottle of champagne to keep up his consequence. ‘Mrs. Bironn, ma’am,’ said he, for he had heard the waiter call her by some such name, ‘if you _will_ accept a glass of champagne, ma’am, you’ll do me, I’m sure, great _h_onour: they say it’s very good, and a precious sight cheaper than it is on our side of the way, too--not that I care for money. Mrs. Bironn, ma’am, your health, ma’am.’ The lady smiled very graciously, and drank the wine. ‘Har you any relation, ma’am, if I may make so bold; har you anyways connected with the family of our immortal bard?’ ‘Sir, I beg your pardon.’ ‘Don’t mention it, ma’am: but Bi_ronn_ and _By_ron are hevidently the same names, only you pronounce in the French way; and I thought you might be related to his lordship: his horigin, ma’am, was of French extraction:’ and here Pogson began to repeat: ‘Hare thy heyes like thy mother’s, my fair child, Hada! sole daughter of my ouse and art.’ ‘Oh!’ said the lady, laughing, ‘you speak of _Lor_ Byron.’