Shortly afterwards she became the rage. Her beauty, her wit, her
music, her dinners, her diamonds, were spoken of with enthusiasm. All the
elderly _roues_, whose leathery hearts had been offered up at hundreds of
shrines, became her temporary slaves. She coaxed them, cajoled them, and
fooled them, did this innocent daughter of a simple-minded Dean, to the top
of their various bents. She schemed successfully against countless rivals,
in order to maintain her pre-eminence in the admiration of her circle. Her
ambition knew no bounds. She changed her so-called friends every week; she
cultivated grand passions for actors, authors, musicians, and even for
professors. Sometimes she played to select audiences with all her old
ravishing skill, but this happened more and more rarely, until at last she
utterly declined, and even went so far as to flout H.S.H. the Duke of
KALBSKOPF, who had been specially invited to meet her.
Then suddenly came the crash. She left her husband, in company with CHARLIE
FITZHUBERT, the heir presumptive to the wealthy earldom of Battersea. On
the following day Mr. PARDOE blew out his brains, leaving ten thousand
pounds of debt and three young children. Six months afterwards the
venerable Dean died, and sentimental people spoke of a broken heart.
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