Riley said that he should examine every lady, now, one by one, and take special note that she wore her own natural visage. He began with the jocund Miss Crawleys, whose familiar gaiety, which deemed nothing indecorous that afforded them sport, encouraged him, by its flippant enjoyment, to proceed to others. But he no sooner advanced to Ellis, than she turned from his investigation, in so much disorder, that her kind young friend, Lady Barbara, enquired what was the matter. She endeavoured to control her alarm, cheerfully answering, that she was well; but Riley no sooner caught the sound of her voice, than, riotously clapping his hands, he exclaimed, ''Tis the Demoiselle! Faith, 'tis the Demoiselle herself! That's her voice! And those are her eyes! And there's her nose! It's she, faith! And so here are the whites, and the double face!' A laugh from Ireton confirmed his suggestion, while the change of countenance in Ellis, satisfied all who could see her, that some discovery was made, or impending, which she earnestly wished concealed. Mrs Maple, scarcely less disconcerted than herself, enquired again for her carriage. 'Faith, this is droll enough! it is, faith!' cried Riley, when his first transport of surprise subsided. 'So the Demoiselle is a Beauty, after all! And the finest harp-player, to boot, on this side King David!' Ellis, dreadfully distressed, silently bowed down her head. 'I should like to have a model of her face,' continued Riley; 'to find out how it's done. What a fine fortune she may raise, if she will take up a patent for beauty-making! I know many a dowager that would give half she is worth for the secret. I should think you would not be sorry yourself, Mrs Maple, to have a little touch of the art. It would not do you much harm, I can tell you, Ma'am.' The scornful looks of Mrs Maple alone announced that she heard him; and the disturbed ones of Ellis made the same confession; but both were equally mute. 'You'll pay for your sport, I can tell you, Master Ireton!' Riley triumphantly went on; 'for I shall claim my wager. But pray, Demoiselle, what's become of all those plaisters and patches, as well as of the black coat over the skin? One could see nothing but eyes and nose. And very handsome eyes and nose they are. I don't know that I ever saw finer; I don't, faith! However, ladies, you need none of you despair of turning out beauties, in the long run, if she'll lend you a hand; for the ugliest Signora among you i'n't so frightful as poor Demoiselle was, when we saw her first; with her bruises, and scars, and bandages.'