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Rh farther. The Comte d'Artois had neither the dignified nor the manly air of his brother—he rather appeared like a pretty-looking girl, so effeminate was he and fair. He had more, too, of the lively bearing of youth, and indulged in a reckless and even noisy gaiety, the very reverse of the other's grave composure.

It was rather odd that those former reminiscences, to which allusion had been made, should in reality become the subject of discourse from the questions of a stranger; yet so it was. Partly from that courtesy which, when it interfered not with his enjoyment, was Louis's great characteristic, he immediately turned the conversation to what he supposed had been the preceding dialogue. There was some curiosity, too, in it; for those who depend much on others for their amusement are always curious, especially when conversation is a great staple of entertainment. People are apt to mistake this, and fancy the attention given to their details is a proof of the interest taken in themselves; it is merely that their auditors are attracted by novelty. Louis had the topics of the hour twisted into every possible shape to amuse him; but he had never thought about his favourites, the Mancinis, having even lived before he knew them: their existence, in his memory, was dated