features, though not plain, were insignificant; and she spoke very

little, except in a low voice, to Mrs. Jenkinson, in whose appearance

there was nothing remarkable, and who was entirely engaged in listening

to what she said, and placing a screen in the proper direction before

her eyes.
After sitting a few minutes, they were all sent to one of the windows to

admire the view, Mr. Collins attending them to point out its beauties,

and Lady Catherine kindly informing them that it was much better worth

looking at in the summer.{204}
The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants,

and all the articles of plate which Mr. Collins had promised; and, as he

had likewise foretold, he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by

her Ladyship’s desire, and looked as if he felt that life could furnish

nothing greater. He carved and ate and praised with delighted alacrity;

and every dish was commended first by him, and then by Sir William, who

was now enough recovered to echo whatever his son-in-law said, in a

manner which Elizabeth wondered Lady Catherine could bear. But Lady

Catherine seemed gratified by their excessive admiration, and gave most

gracious smiles, especially when any dish on the table proved a novelty

to them. The party did not supply much conversation. Elizabeth was ready

to speak whenever there was an opening, but she was seated between

Charlotte and Miss de Bourgh—the former of whom was engaged in

listening to Lady Catherine, and the latter said not a word to her all

the dinnertime. Mrs. Jenkinson was chiefly employed in watching how

little Miss de Bourgh ate, pressing her to try some other dish and

fearing she was indisposed. Maria thought speaking out of the question,

and the gentlemen did nothing but eat and admire.
When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, there was little to be

done but to hear Lady Catherine talk, which she did without any