An Englishman may probably be as forward as a Frenchman in rushing into a flaming building to save an old woman's life; but then it so rarely happens that occasion offers itself for gallantry such as that.

A man, however, may with ease be civil to a dozen old women in one day.
And so they went on, walking through parterres and glass-houses, talking of theatres, balls, dinner-parties, picnics, concerts, operas, of ladies married and single, of single gentlemen who should be married, and of married gentlemen who should be single, of everything, indeed, except the flowers, of which neither Victoire nor his companions took the slightest notice.
'And madame really has a dance to-night in her own house ?' 'O yes,' said Mrs.Val; 'that is, just a few quadrilles and waltzes for Clementina.

I really hardly know whether the people will take the carpet up or no.' The people, consisting of the cook and housemaid--for the page had, of course, come with the carriage--were at this moment hard at work wrenching up the nails, as Mrs.Val was very well aware.
'It will be delightful, charming,' said Victoire.
'Just a few people of our own set, you know,' said Mrs.Val: 'no crowd, or fuss, or anything of that sort; just a few people that we know are nice, in a quiet homely way.' 'Ah, that is so pleasing,' said M.Victoire: 'that is just what I like; and is mademoiselle engaged for-- ?' No.

Mademoiselle was not engaged either for--or for--or for--&c., &c., &c.; and then out came the little tablets, under the dome of a huge greenhouse filled with the most costly exotics, and Clementina and her fellow-labourer in the cause of Terpsichore went to work to make their arrangements for the evening.
And the rest of the party followed them.

Gertrude was accompanied by an Englishman just as idle and quite as useless as M.
Victoire, of the butterfly tribe also, but not so graceful, and without colour.
And then came the Misses Neverbend walking together, and with them, one on each side, two tall Frenchmen, whose faces had been remodelled in that mould into which so large a proportion of Parisians of the present day force their heads, in order that they may come out with some look of the Emperor about them.