Evelina, or the History of a Young Lady - Page 101/382

"The mechanism," answered he, "is wonderfully ingenioous: I am sorry it is turned to no better account; but its purport is so frivolous, so very remote from all aim at instruction or utility, that the sight of so fine a show leaves a regret on the mind, that so much work, and so much ingenuity, should not be better bestowed."

"The truth is," said the Captain, "that in all this huge town, so full as it is of folks of all sorts, there i'n't so much as one public place, besides the play-house, where a man, that's to say, a man who is a man, ought not to be ashamed to shew his face. T'other day they got me to a ridotto: but, I believe, it will be long enough before they get me to another. I knew no more what to do with myself, than if my ship's company had been metamorphosed into Frenchman. Then, again, there's your famous Ranelagh, that you make such a fuss about;-why what a dull place is that!-it's the worst of all."

"Ranelagh dull!"-"Ranelagh dull!-was echoed from mouth to mouth; and all the ladies, as if of one accord, regarded the Captain with looks of the most ironical contempt.

"As to Ranelagh," said Mr. Lovell, "most indubitably, though the price is blebian, it is by no means adapted to the plebian taste. It requires a certain acquaintance with high life, and-and-and something of-of-something d'un vrai gout, to be really sensible of its merit. Those whose-whose connections, and so forth, are not among les gens comme il faut, can feel nothing but ennui at such a place as Ranelagh."

"Ranelagh!" cried Lord -, "O, tis the divinest place under heaven,-or, indeed,-for aught I know-"

"O you creature!" cried a pretty, but affected young lady, patting him with her fan, "you sha'n't talk so; I know what you are going to say; but, positively, I won't sit by you, if you're so wicked."

"And how can one sit by you, and be good?" said he, "when only to look at you is enough to make one wicked-or wish to be so?"

"Fie, my Lord!" returned she, "you really are insufferable. I don't think I shall speak to you again these seven years."

"What a metamorphosis," cried Lord Orville," should you make a patriarch of his Lordship."

"Seven years!" said he, "dear Madam, be contented with telling me you will not speak to me after seven years, and I will endeavour to submit."