From Lady Pennon’s table Diana passed to Lady Crane’s, Lady Esquart’s, Lady Singleby’s, the Duchess of Raby’s, warmly clad in the admiration she excited.  She appeared at Princess Therese Paryli’s first ball of the season, and had her circle, not of worshippers only.  She did not dance.  The princess, a fair Austrian, benevolent to her sisterhood, an admirer of Diana’s contrasting complexion, would have had her dance once in a quadrille of her forming, but yielded to the mute expression of the refusal.  Wherever Mrs. Warwick went, her arts of charming were addressed to the women.  Men may be counted on for falling bowled over by a handsome face and pointed tongue; women require some wooing from their ensphered and charioted sister, particularly if she is clouded; and old women—­excellent buttresses—­must be suavely courted.  Now, to woo the swimming matron and court the settled dowager, she had to win forgiveness for her beauty; and this was done, easily done, by forbearing to angle with it in the press of nibblers.  They ranged about her, individually unnoticed.  Seeming unaware of its effect where it kindled, she smote a number of musical female chords, compassion among them.  A general grave affability of her eyes and smiles was taken for quiet pleasure in the scene.  Her fitful intentness of look when conversing with the older ladies told of the mind within at work upon what they said, and she was careful that plain dialogue should make her comprehensible to them.  Nature taught her these arts, through which her wit became extolled entirely on the strength of her reputation, and her beauty did her service by never taking aim abroad.  They are the woman’s arts of self-defence, as legitimately and honourably hers as the manful use of the fists with a coarser sex.  If it had not been nature that taught her the practice of them in extremity, the sagacious dowagers would have seen brazenness rather than innocence—­or an excuseable indiscretion—­in the part she was performing.  They are not lightly duped by one of their sex.  Few tasks are more difficult than for a young woman under a cloud to hoodwink old women of the world.  They are the prey of financiers, but Time has presented them a magic ancient glass to scan their sex in.

At Princess Paryli’s Ball two young men of singular elegance were observed by Diana, little though she concentered her attention on any figures of the groups.  She had the woman’s faculty (transiently bestowed by perfervid jealousy upon men) of distinguishing minutely in the calmest of indifferent glances.  She could see without looking; and when her eyes were wide they had not to dwell to be detective.  It did not escape her that the Englishman of the two hurried for the chance of an introduction, nor that he suddenly, after putting a question to a man beside him, retired.  She spoke of them to Emma as they drove home.  ’The princess’s partner in the first quadrille . . .  Hungarian, I suppose?  He was like a Tartar modelled by a Greek:  supple as the Scythian’s bow, braced as the string!  He has the air of a born horseman, and valses perfectly.  I won’t say he was handsomer than a young Englishman there, but he had the advantage of soldierly training.  How different is that quick springy figure from our young men’s lounging style!  It comes of military exercise and discipline.’