The reader may think, perhaps, that we have dwelt too long on these trifling incidents; perhaps he may be right.  We will therefore pass to others.

Everything favoured the Chevalier de Grammont in the new passion which he entertained:  he was not, however, without rivals; but, what is a great deal more extraordinary, he was without uneasiness:  he was acquainted with their understandings, and no stranger to Miss Hamilton’s way of thinking.

Among her lovers, the most considerable, though the least professedly so, was the Duke of York:  it was in vain for him to conceal it, the court was too well acquainted with his character to doubt of his inclinations for her.  He did not think it proper to declare such sentiments as were not fit for Miss Hamilton to hear; but he talked to her as much as he could, and ogled her with great assiduity.  As hunting was his favourite diversion, that sport employed him one part of the day, and he came home generally much fatigued; but Miss Hamilton’s presence revived him, when he found her either with the queen or the duchess.  There it was that, not daring to tell her of what lay heavy on his heart, he entertained her with what he had in his head:  telling her miracles of the cunning of foxes and the mettle of horses; giving her accounts of broken legs and arms, dislocated shoulders, and other curious and entertaining adventures; after which, his eyes told her the rest, till such time as sleep interrupted their conversation; for these tender interpreters could not help sometimes composing themselves in the midst of their ogling.

The duchess was not at all alarmed at a passion which her rival was far from thinking sincere, and with which she used to divert herself, as far as respect would admit her; on the contrary, as her highness had an affection and esteem for Miss Hamilton, she never treated her more graciously than on the present occasion.

The two Russells, uncle and nephew,—­were two other of the Chevalier de Grammont’s rivals:  the uncle was full seventy, and had distinguished himself by his courage and fidelity in the civil wars.  His passions and intentions, with regard to Miss Hamilton, appeared both at once; but his magnificence only appeared by halves in those gallantries which love inspires.  It was not long since the fashion of high crowned hats had been left off, in order to fall into the other extreme.  Old Russell, amazed at so terrible a change, resolved to keep a medium, which made him remarkable:  he was still more so, by his constancy for cut doublets, which he supported a long time after they had been universally suppressed; but, what was more surprising than all, was a certain mixture of avarice and liberality, constantly at war with each other, ever since he had entered the list with love.