To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Silleri, Oct. 20.
I danced last night till four o'clock in the morning (if you will
allow the expression), without being the least fatigued: the little
Fitzgerald was my partner, who grows upon me extremely; the monkey has
a way of being attentive and careless by turns, which has an amazing
effect; nothing attaches a woman of my temper so much to a lover as her
being a little in fear of losing him; and he keeps up the spirit of the
thing admirably.
Your brother and Emily danced together, and I think I never saw
either of them look so handsome; she was a thousand times more admired
at this ball than the first, and reason good, for she was a thousand
times more agreable; your brother is really a charming fellow, he is
an immense favorite with the ladies; he has that very pleasing general
attention, which never fails to charm women; he can even be particular
to one, without wounding the vanity of the rest: if he was in company
with twenty, his mistress of the number, his manner would be such, that
every woman there would think herself the second in his esteem; and
that, if his heart had not been unluckily pre-engaged, she herself
should have been the object of his tenderness.
His eyes are of immense use to him; he looks the civilest things
imaginable; his whole countenance speaks whatever he wishes to say; he
has the least occasion for words to explain himself of any man I ever
knew.
Fitzgerald has eyes too, I assure you, and eyes that know how to
speak; he has a look of saucy unconcern and inattention, which is
really irresistible.
We have had a great deal of snow already, but it melts away; 'tis a
lovely day, but an odd enough mixture of summer and winter; in some
places you see half a foot of snow lying, in others the dust is even
troublesome.
Adieu! there are a dozen or two of beaux at the door.
Yours,
A. Fermor.