There was this night a great ball at Lady Bardolfs, in Belgrave Square.
One should generally mention localities, because very often they
indicate character. Lady Bardolf lived next door to Mrs. Guy Flouncey.
Both had risen in the world, though it requires some esoteric knowledge
to recognise the patrician par-venue; and both had finally settled
themselves down in the only quarter which Lady Bardolf thought worthy of
her new coronet, and Mrs. Guy Flouncey of her new visiting list.
Lady Bardolf had given up the old family mansion of the Firebraces in
Hanover Square, at the same time that she had resigned their old title.
Politics being dead, in consequence of the majority of 1841, who, after
a little kicking for the million, satisfactorily assured the minister
that there was no vice in them.
Lady Bardolf had chalked out a new career, and one of a still more
eminent and exciting character than her previous pursuit. Lady Bardolf
was one of those ladies--there are several--who entertain the curious
idea that they need only to be known in certain high quarters to be
immediately selected as the principal objects of court favour. Lady
Bardolf was always putting herself in the way of it; she never lost an
opportunity; she never missed a drawing-room, contrived to be at all the
court balls, plotted to be invited to a costume fete, and expended the
tactics of a campaign to get asked to some grand chateau honoured by
august presence.
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