‘Oh—h—h—h!’ exclaimed the countess.

‘I was sure you had heard of her,’ continued Mrs Proudie. ‘I don’t know anything about her husband. They do say that some man named Neroni is still alive. I believe she did marry such a man abroad, but I do not at all know who or what he was.’

‘Ah—h—h—h!’ said the countess, shaking her head with much intelligence, as every additional ’h’ fell from her lips. ‘I know all about it now. I have heard George mention her. George knows all about her. George heard about her in Rome.’

‘She’s an abominable woman at any rate,’ said Mrs Proudie.

‘Insufferable,’ said the countess.

‘She made her way into the palace once, before I knew anything about her; and I cannot tell you how dreadfully indecent her conduct was.’

‘Was it?’ said the delighted countess.

‘Insufferable,’ said the prelatess.

‘But why does she lie on a sofa?’ asked the Lady De Courcy.

‘She has only one leg,’ said Mrs Proudie.

‘Only one leg!’ said the Lady De Courcy, who felt to a certain degree dissatisfied that the signora was thus incapacitated. ‘Was she born so?’

‘Oh, no,’ said Mrs Proudie,—and her ladyship felt somewhat recomforted by the assurance,—’she had two. But that Signor Neroni beat her, I believe, till she was obliged to have one amputated. At any rate she entirely lost the use of it.’

‘Unfortunate creature!’ said the countess, who herself knew something of matrimonial trials.

‘Yes,’ said Mrs Proudie; ‘one would pity her, in spite of her past bad conduct, if she knew how to behave herself. But she does not. She is the most insolent creature I have ever put my eyes on.’

‘Indeed she is,’ said Lady De Courcy.

‘And her conduct with men is abominable, that she is not fit to be admitted into any lady’s drawing–room.’

‘Dear me!’ said the countess, becoming again excited, happy, and merciless.

‘You saw that man standing near her,—the clergyman with the red hair?’

‘Yes, yes.’

‘She has absolutely ruined that man. The bishop, or I should rather take the blame on myself, for it was I,—I brought him down from London to Barchester. He is a tolerable preacher, an active young man, and I therefore introduced him to the bishop. That woman, Lady De Courcy, has got hold of him, and has so disgraced him, that I am forced to required that he shall leave the palace; and I doubt very much whether he won’t lose his gown.’

‘Why what an idiot the man must be!’ said the countess.

‘You don’t know the intriguing villainy of that woman,’ said Mrs Proudie, remembering her own torn flounces.