unfortunate man, that he makes an absolute fool of himself in the interview which he has so anxiously desired, and leaves an impression of nothing but awkwardness and ignorance.
But, pursues the letter-writer, supposing that your introduction is successful: supposing that the great man's friends do not set him against you, that the lady of the house does not take a violent dislike to you, that the steward and the housekeeper are graciously pleased to approve of you on the whole,—still, what an ordeal you have to go through at your very first dinner!
"My lord's gentleman, a suave personage, brings you the invitation. You must win his goodwill, to begin with: so, not to seem wanting in good manners, you slip five drachmæ into his hand, at the least. He affects to refuse if. 'From you, sir? Oh dear, no! on no account—I couldn't think of it.' But he is persuaded at last, and smiles with his white teeth as he takes his leave. Well, you put on your best suit, and get yourself up as correctly as you can, and reach the door—very much afraid of arriving before the other guests, which is as awkward as coming last is rude. So you take careful pains to hit the happy medium, are graciously received, and are placed within a few seats of the host,—just below two or three old friends of the house. You stare at everything as if you had been introduced all at once into the palace of Jupiter, and watch every detail anxiously—all is so new and strange; while the whole family have their eyes on you, and are watching what you will do next.
