commonalty, her feeling was not carried so far as to scorn the

advantages of a fortune acquired in a profession; so she accompanied
her sister to the sumptuous villa, less out of affection for the

members of her family who were visiting there, than because fashion
has ordained that every woman who has any self-respect must leave

Paris in the summer. The green seclusion of Sceaux answered to
perfection the requirements of good style and of the duties of an

official position.
As it is extremelydoubtful that the fame of the "Bal de Sceaux"

should ever have extended beyond the borders of the Department of the
Seine, it will be necessary to give some account of this weekly

festivity, which at that time was important enough to threaten to
become an institution. The environs of the little town of Sceaux enjoy

a reputation due to the scenery, which is considered enchanting.
Perhaps it is quite ordinary, and owes its fame only to the stupidity

of the Paris townsfolk, who, emerging from the stony abyss in which
they are buried, would find something to admire in the flats of La

Beauce. However, as the poetic shades of Aulnay, the hillsides of
Antony, and the valley of the Bieve are peopled with artists who have

traveled far, by foreigners who are very hard to please, and by a
great many pretty women not devoid of taste, it is to be supposed that

the Parisians are right. But Sceaux possesses another attraction not
less powerful to the Parisian. In the midst of a garden whence there

are delightful views, stands a large rotunda open on all sides, with a
light, spreading roof supported on elegantpillars. This rural

baldachino shelters a dancing-floor. The most stuck-up landowners of
the neighborhoodrarely fail to make an excursionthither once or

twice during the season, arriving at this rustic palace of Terpsichore
either in dashing parties on horseback, or in the light and elegant

carriages which powder the philosophicalpedestrian with dust. The
hope of meeting some women of fashion, and of being seen by them--and

the hope, less often disappointed, of seeing young peasant girls, as
wily as judges--crowds the ballroom at Sceaux with numerous swarms of

lawyers' clerks, of the disciples of Aesculapius, and other youths
whose complexions are kept pale and moist by the damp atmosphere of

Paris back-shops. And a good many bourgeois marriages have had their
beginning to the sound of the band occupying the centre of this

circular ballroom. If that roof could speak, what love-stories could
it not tell!

This interesting medley gave the Sceaux balls at that time a spice of
more amusement than those of two or three places of the same kind near

Paris; and it had incontestable advantages in its rotunda, and the
beauty of its situation and its gardens. Emilie was the first to

express a wish to play at being COMMON FOLK at this gleeful suburban
entertainment, and promised herself immense pleasure in mingling with

the crowd. Everybody wondered at her desire to wander through such a
mob; but is there not a keen pleasure to grand people in an incognito?

Mademoiselle de Fontaine amused herself with imagining all these town-
bred figures; she fancied herself leaving the memory of a bewitching

glance and smile stamped on more than one shopkeeper's heart, laughed
beforehand at the damsels' airs, and sharpened her pencils for the

scenes she proposed to sketch in her satirical album. Sunday could not
come soon enough to satisfy her impatience.

The party from the Villa Planat set out on foot, so as not to betray
the rank of the personages who were about to honor the ball with their

presence. They dined early. And the month of May humored this
aristocratic escapade by one of its finest evenings. Mademoiselle de

Fontaine was quite surprised to find in the rotunda some quadrilles
made up of persons who seemed to belong to the upper classes. Here and

there, indeed, were some young men who look as though they must have
saved for a month to shine for a day; and she perceived several

couples whose too hearty glee suggested nothing conjugal; still, she
could only glean instead of gathering a harvest. She was amused to see

that pleasure in a cotton dress was so very like pleasure robed in
satin, and that the girls of the middle class danced quite as well as

ladies--nay, sometimes better. Most of the women were simply and
suitably dressed. Those who in this assembly represented the ruling

power, that is to say, the country-folk, kept apart with wonderful
politeness. In fact, Mademoiselle Emilie had to study the various

elements that composed the mixture before she could find any subject
for pleasantry. But she had not time to give herself up to malicious

criticism, or opportunity for hearing many of the startling speeches
which caricaturists so gladly pick up. The haughty young lady suddenly

found a flower in this wide field--the metaphor is reasonable--whose
splendor and coloring worked on her imagination with all the

fascination of novelty. It often happens that we look at a dress, a
hanging, a blank sheet of paper, with so little heed that we do not at

first detect a stain or a bright spot which afterwards strikes the eye
as though it had come there at the very instant when we see it; and by

a sort of moral phenomenon somewhat resembling this, Mademoiselle de
Fontaine discovered in a young man the externalperfection of which

she had so long dreamed.
Seated on one of the clumsy chairs which marked the boundary line of

the circular floor, she had placed herself at the end of the row
formed by the family party, so as to be able to stand up or push

forward as her fancy moved her, treating the living pictures and
groups in the hall as if she were in a picture gallery; impertinently

turning her eye-glass on persons not two yards away, and making her
remarks as though she were criticising or praising a study of a head,

a painting of genre. Her eyes, after wandering over the vast moving
picture, were suddenly caught by this figure, which seemed to have

been placed on purpose in one corner of the canvas, and in the best
light, like a person out of all proportion with the rest.

The stranger, alone and absorbed in thought, leaned lightly against
one of the columns that supported the roof; his arms were folded, and

he leaned slightly on one side as though he had placed himself there
to have his portrait taken by a painter. His attitude, though full of

elegance and dignity, was devoid of affectation. Nothing suggested
that he had half turned his head, and bent it a little to the right

like Alexander, or Lord Byron, and some other great men, for the sole
purpose of attracting attention. His fixed gaze followed a girl who

was dancing, and betrayed some strong feeling. His slender, easy frame
recalled the noble proportions of the Apollo. Fine black hair curled

naturally over a high forehead. At a glance Mademoiselle de Fontaine
observed that his linen was fine, his gloves fresh, and evidently

bought of a good maker, and his feet were small and well shod in boots
of Irish kid. He had none of the vulgar trinkets displayed by the

dandies of the National Guard or the Lovelaces of the counting-house.
A black ribbon, to which an eye-glass was attached, hung over a

waistcoat of the most fashionable cut. Never had the fastidious Emilie
seen a man's eyes shaded by such long, curled lashes. Melancholy and

passion were expressed in this face, and the complexion was of a manly
olive hue. His mouth seemed ready to smile, unbending the corners of

eloquent lips; but this, far from hinting at gaiety, revealed on the
contrary a sort of pathetic grace. There was too much promise in that

head, too much distinction in his whole person, to allow of one's
saying, "What a handsome man!" or "What a fine man!" One wanted to

know him. The most clear-sighted observer, on seeing this stranger,
could not have helped taking him for a clever man attracted to this

rural festivity by some powerful motive.
All these observations cost Emilie only a minute's attention, during

which the privileged gentleman under her severe scrutiny became the
object of her secret admiration. She did not say to herself, "He must

be a peer of France!" but "Oh, if only he is noble, and he surely must
be----" Without finishing her thought, she suddenly rose, and followed

by her brother the General, she made her way towards the column,
affecting to watch the merry quadrille; but by a stratagem of the eye,

familiar to women, she lost not a gesture of the young man as she went
towards him. The stranger politely moved to make way for the

newcomers, and went to lean against another pillar. Emilie, as much
nettled by his politeness as she might have been by an impertinence,

began talking to her brother in a louder voice than good taste
enjoined; she turned and tossed her head, gesticulated eagerly, and

laughed for no particular reason, less to amuse her brother than to
attract the attention of the imperturbable stranger. None of her

little arts succeeded. Mademoiselle de Fontaine then followed the
direction in which his eyes were fixed, and discovered the cause of

his indifference.
In the midst of the quadrille, close in front of them, a pale girl was

dancing; her face was like one of the divinities which Girodet has
introduced into his immensecomposition of French Warriors received by