But it is not in dress alone that a similarity exists in the exteriors of Parisian women.  The air comme il faut, the perfect freedom from all gaucherie, the ease of demeanour, the mode of walking, and, above all, the decent dignity equally removed from mauvaise honte and effrontery, appertain nearly alike to all.  The class denominated grisettes alone offered an exception, as their demonstrations of gaiety, though free from boisterousness, betrayed stronger symptoms of hilarity than were evinced by women belonging to a more elevated class in society.

The dancing, too, surprised as well as pleased me; and in this accomplishment the French still maintain their long-acknowledged superiority, for among the many groups I did not see a single bad dancer.

Around one quadrille party a more numerous audience was collected than around the others, and the entrechats of one of the gentlemen were much applauded.  Nods and smiles passing between the dancers and the Duchesse de Guiche, revealed to me that they were among the circle of her acquaintance; and, approaching nearer, I recognised in the gentleman whose entrechats were so much admired, my new acquaintance the Marquis l’Esperance de l’Aigle, of whose excellence in the mazy dance I now had an opportunity of seeing that Fame had not said too much.

The ladies who formed the quadrille were la Marquise de Marmier, the Vicomtesse de Noailles, and Madame Standish; all excellent dancers, and attired in that most becoming of all styles of dress, the demi-toilette, which is peculiar to France, and admits of the after-dinner promenades or unceremonious visits in which French ladies indulge.  A simple robe of organdie, with long sleeves, a canezou of net, a light scarf, and a pretty chapeau of paille de riz, form this becoming toilette, which is considered a suitable one for all theatres, except the Opera, where ladies go in a richer dress.

On our return from Tivoli, we had a small party to drink tea, and remained chatting till one o’clock—­a late hour for Paris.  Among the guests was our old friend Mr. T. Steuart, the nephew of Sir William Drummond, who continues to be as clever and original as ever.  His lively remarks and brilliant sallies were very amusing.

Having complained of the want of a comfortable chair last evening, I found a chef d’oeuvre of Rainguet’s in my salon this morning, sent me by my thoughtful and ever-kind friend the Duc de Guiche.  A connoisseur in chairs and sofas, being unhappily addicted to “taking mine ease” not only in “mine inn,” but wherever I meet these requisites to it, I am compelled to acknowledge the superiority of Rainguet over any that I have previously seen; and my only fear is, that this luxurious chair will seduce me into the still greater indulgence of my besetting or besitting sin, sedentary habits.