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Flighty Captain Bouchier

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Tuesday.—This morning, by appointment, we met a party at the pump-room, thence to proceed to Spring Gardens, to a public breakfast. The folks, however, were not to their time, and we sallied forth only with the addition of Miss Weston and Miss Byron.

As soon as we entered the gardens Augusta, who had hold of my arm, called out, “Ah! there’s the man I danced with at the ball! and he plagued me to death, asking me if I liked this and that, and the other, and, when I said ‘No,’ he asked me what I did like? So, I suppose he thought me a fool, and so indeed, I am! only you are so good to me that I wrote my sister Sophy word that you had almost made me quite vain; and she wrote to me t’other day a private letter, and told me how glad she was you were come back, for, indeed, I had written her word I should be quite sick of my life here, if it was not for sometimes seeing you.”

The gentleman to whom she pointed presently made up to us, And I found he was Captain Bouchier, the same who had rattled away at Mr. Whalley’s. He instantly joined Miss Weston and consequently our party, and was in the same style of flighty raillery as before. He seems to have a very good understanding, and very quick parts, but he is rather too conscious of both however, he was really very entertaining, and as he abided wholly by Miss Weston, whose delicacy gave way to gaiety and flash, whether she would or not, I was very glad that he made one among us.

The rest of the company soon came, and were Mr. and Mrs. Whalley, Mrs. Lambart, Mrs. Aubrey, Colonel Campbell, an old officer and old acquaintance of Mr. Thrale, and some others, both male and female, whose names I know not.

We all sat in one box, but we had three tea-makers. Miss Weston presided at that to which I belonged, and Augusta, Captain Bouchier, and herself were of our set. And gay enough we were, for the careless rattle of Captain Bouchier, which paid no regard to the daintiness of Miss Weston, made her obliged in her own defence, to abate her finery, and laugh, and rally, and rail, in her turn. But, at ‘last, I really began to fear that this flighty officer would bring on a serious quarrel, for, among other subjects he was sporting, he unfortunately started that of the Bath Easton vase, which he ridiculed without mercy, and yet, according to all I have heard of it, without any injustice; but Mrs. Whalley, who overheard him, was quite irritated with him. Sir John an Lady Miller are her friends, and she thought it incumbent upon her to vindicate even this vain folly, which she did weakly and warmly, while Captain Bouchier only laughed and ridiculed them the more. Mrs. Whalley then coloured, and grew quite enraged, reasoning upon the wickedness of laughing at her good friends, and talking of generosity and sentiment. Meanwhile, he scampered from side to side to avoid her; laughed, shouted, and tried every way of braving it out; but was compelled at last to be serious, and enter into a solemn defence of his intentions, which were, he said, to ridicule the vase, not the Millers.

The Diary and Collected Letters of Madame D'Arblay, Frances Burney

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