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make the smallest advances to that young lady? It would be at the risk

of your life perhaps."



"To lose your good graces, madame, would be worse than to lose my

life."



"Martial," said the Countess severely, "she is Madame de Soulanges.

Her husband would blow your brains out--if, indeed, you have any----"



"Ha! ha!" laughed the coxcomb. "What! the Colonel can leave the man in

peace who has robbed him of your love, and then would fight for his



wife! What a subversion of principles!--I beg of you to allow me to

dance with the little lady. You will then be able to judge how little



love that heart of ice could feel for you; for, if the Colonel

disapproves of my dancing with his wife after allowing me to----"



"But she loves her husband."

"A still further obstacle that I shall have the pleasure of



conquering."

"But she is married."



"A whimsical objection!"

"Ah!" said the Countess, with a bitter smile, "you punish us alike for



our faults and our repentance!"

"Do not be angry!" exclaimed Martial eagerly. "Oh, forgive me, I



beseech you. There, I will think no more of Madame de Soulanges."

"You deserve that I should send you to her."



"I am off then," said the Baron, laughing, "and I shall return more

devoted to you than ever. You will see that the prettiest woman in the



world cannot capture the heart that is yours."

"That is to say, that you want to win Colonel Montcornet's horse?"



"Ah! Traitor!" said he, threatening his friend with his finger. The

Colonel smiled and joined them; the Baron gave him the seat near the



Countess, saying to her with a sardonic accent:

"Here, madame, is a man who boasted that he could win your good graces



in one evening."

He went away, thinking himself clever to have piqued the Countess'



pride and done Montcornet an ill turn; but, in spite of his habitual

keenness, he had not appreciated the irony underlying Madame de



Vaudremont's speech, and did not perceive that she had come as far to

meet his friend as his friend towards her, though both were



unconscious of it.

At that moment when the lawyer went fluttering up to the candelabrum



by which Madame de Soulanges sat, pale, timid, and apparently alive

only in her eyes, her husband came to the door of the ballroom, his



eyes flashing with anger. The old Duchess, watchful of everything,

flew to her nephew, begged him to give her his arm and find her



carriage, affecting to be mortally bored, and hoping thus to prevent a

vexatious outbreak. Before going she fired a singular glance of



intelligence at her niece, indicating the enterprisingknight who was

about to address her, and this signal seemed to say, "There he is,



avenge yourself!"

Madame de Vaudremont caught these looks of the aunt and niece; a



sudden light dawned on her mind; she was frightened lest she was the

dupe of this old woman, so cunning and so practised in intrigue.



"That perfidious Duchess," said she to herself, "has perhaps been

amusing herself by preachingmorality to me while playing me some



spiteful trick of her own."

At this thought Madame de Vaudremont's pride was perhaps more roused



than her curiosity to disentangle the thread of this intrigue. In the

absorption of mind to which she was a prey she was no longer mistress



of herself. The Colonel, interpreting to his own advantage the

embarrassment evident in the Countess' manner and speech, became more



ardent and pressing. The old blase diplomates, amusing themselves by

watching the play of faces, had never found so many intrigues at once



to watch or guess at. The passions agitating the two couples were to

be seen with variations at every step in the crowded rooms, and



reflected with different shades in other countenances. The spectacle

of so many vivid passions, of all these lovers' quarrels, these



pleasing revenges, these cruel favors, these flaming glances, of all

this ardent life diffused around them, only made them feel their






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