ODD CONJUNCTIONS.
Reading edition
The accidents and incidents of travelling sometimes produce very odd conjunctions. When I arrived in Rome, I was in all the first bloom of proscription, brought upon me by my work on France, “Femme à pendre, livre à brûler;” and my introduction to the Buonaparte family, set the seal on my transgression in the eyes of their deputed persecutor, the Comte de Blacas, ambassador of France. Even the secretary’s secretary of the representative of his most Christian Majesty, was afraid to turn his diplomatic eyes to the side of the room where I stood, lest he should happen to se compromettre in a furtive glance. On the occasion of one of the many splendid parties given by the Countess of C——, by which the hospitality of Ireland was maintained in the ancient capital of the Cæsars, his Excellency the Count de Blacas and myself got so wedged together in the crush at the drawing-room door, that the Italian groom of the chambers, in the breathless haste of his rapid annunciation, cried out de haute voix, “Son Excellence l’Ambassadeur de France, et Lady Morgan.” “Holy St. Francis! what a tête-à-tête was there!” The whole room was in a titter.