'Who are they?--diamond merchants, owners of newspapers, riggers of stock, promoters and projectors, which is modern English for swindlers and thieves. How do they get here?--through the money they have made. Look round the grand tier, and you will scarcely see half a dozen English faces, and certainly not two with any high-bred look about them. Don't you remember how different it was in the old time under Lumley's management, when you used to wait regularly every night to see Carlotta and Perrot dance the Truandaise?' 'Don't mention those times!' muttered Uffington, shrinking as though he had been struck. Then, as though to change the conversation, he said: 'There is a pretty woman--very pretty and _distinguée_-looking too--in the fourth box from the stage; who is she?' 'That,' said Tom Lydyeard, after looking through his glass, 'is Lady Forestfield; she is a daughter of Lord Stortford's, and married Forestfield about two years ago.' 'I recollect Lady Stortford,' said Uffington; 'she was our contemporary, a very sweet woman. Is she alive?' 'No; she died last year,' said Tom Lydyeard. Then added under his breath, 'Thank God!' Uffington heard the words and looked sharply round, but Tom Lydyeard's eyes were hidden by his glass, and his uplifted hands covered that tell-tale of any emotion--the mouth. Nugent Uffington then made a long inspection of the box, and at its conclusion said, I can now recognise many traces of her mother in Lady Forestfield. She is the same [Greek: Boôpis `'Eze], and seems to have the same splendid hair. What is her husband like?' 'Forestfield is a cool cynical sensualist, the type of a race very common in the present day, who is always very quiet and apparently unimpassioned, and yet I believe that a wickeder little wretch does not walk.' 'He doesn't treat his wife well, then?' 'My dear fellow, no one treats his wife well nowadays; it isn't the fashion. I suppose, if anything, Forestfield may be looked upon as rather an exemplary person, as he doesn't care to beat his wife or _afficher_ his infidelities as many of these youths do; but he is notoriously unfaithful for all that, and I have sometimes seen my lady looking very sad indeed.' 'She cares for him, then?' 'She--well, she did; most people would say she does--but I have my own ideas on that point.' 'Poor child!' said Uffington, with a sigh; then added quickly, 'Who is that just come into the box?' Tom Lydyeard looked up, and saw a gentlemanly-looking young man, with fair curling hair, fresh complexion, blue eyes, and white teeth, talking to Lady Forestfield's companion, the Duchess of Melrose.