CHAPTER IX
"On sera ridicule et je n'oserai rire!"
BOILEAU.
IN honour of her brother's return Lady Emily resolved to celebrate it
with a ball; and always prompt in following up her plans, she fell to
work immediately with her visiting list.
"Certainly," said she, as she scanned it over, "there never was any
family so afflicted in their acquaintances as we are. At least one-half
of the names here belong to the most insufferable people on the face of
the earth. The Claremonts, and the Edgefields, and the Bouveries, and the
Sedleys, and a few more, are very well; but can anything in human form
be more insupportable than the rest; for instance, that wretch Lady
Placid?"
"Does her merit lie only in her name then?" asked Mary.
"You shall judge for yourself when I have given you a slight sketch of
her character. Lady Placid, in the opinion of all sensible persons in
general, and myself in particular, is a vain, weak, conceited, vulgar
egotist. In her own eyes she is a clever, well-informed, elegant,
amiable woman; and though I have spared no pains to let her know how
detestable I think her, it is all in vain; she remains as firmly
entrenched in her own good opinion as folly and conceit can make her;
and I have the despair of seeing all my buffetings fall blunted to the
ground. She reminds me of some odious fairy or genii I have read of, who
possessed such a power in their person that every hostile weapon
levelled against them was immediately turned into some agreeable
present.
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