"Baker! said Vivian, turning to a servant, "Go, and enquire if Mr. Stapylton Toad dines at the Castle to-day."
A flourish of trumpets announced the rise of the Marchioness of Carabas, and in a few minutes the most ornamental portion of the guests had disappeared. The gentlemen made a general "move up," and Vivian found himself opposite his friend, Mr. Hargrave.
"Ah! Mr. Hargrave, how d'ye do? What do you think of the Secretary's state paper?"
"A magnificent composition, and quite unanswerable. I was just speaking of it to my friend here, Mr. Metternich Scribe. Allow me to introduce you to—Mr. Metternich Scribe."
"Mr. Metternich Scribe—Mr. Vivian Grey!" and here Mr. Hargrave introduced Vivian to an effeminate-looking, perfumed, young man, with a handsome, unmeaning face, and very white hands. In short, as dapper a little diplo-
