uses
on the continent, to the living representatives of an ancient pedigree.
Deep silence had fallen; and the guests looked alternately from the
spoilt girl's proud and sulky pout to the severe faces of Monsieur and
Madame de Fontaine.

"I have made my daughter Emilie mistress of her own fate," was the reply
spoken by the Count in a deep voice.

Relations and guests gazed at Mademoiselle de Fontaine with mingled
curiosity and pity. The words seemed to declare that fatherly affection
was weary of the contest with a character that the whole family knew to
be incorrigible. The sons-in-law muttered, and the brothers glanced at
their wives with mocking smiles. From that moment every one ceased to
take any interest in the haughty girl's prospects of marriage. Her old
uncle was the only person who, as an old sailor, ventured to stand on
her tack, and take her broadsides, without ever troubling himself to
return her fire.

When the fine weather was settled, and after the budget was voted, the
whole family--a perfect example of the parliamentary families on the
northern side of the Channel who have a footing in every government
department, and ten votes in the House of Commons--flew away like a
brood of young birds to the charming neighborhoods of Aulnay, Antony,
and Chatenay. The wealthy Receiver-General had lately purchased in this
part of the world a country-house for his wife, who remained in Paris
only during the session. Though the fair Emilie despised the 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 extremely doubtful 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,