nkey," she went on, after a pause, "has
just told me that Monsieur de la Roche-Hugon is running into danger by
flirting with that stranger, who sits here this evening like a skeleton
at a feast. I would rather see a death's head than that face, so cruelly
beautiful, and as pale as a ghost. She is my evil genius.--Madame de
Lansac," she added, after a flash and gesture of annoyance, "who only
goes to a ball to watch everything while pretending to sleep, has made
me miserably anxious. Martial shall pay dearly for playing me such a
trick. Urge him, meanwhile, since he is your friend, not to make me so
unhappy."

"I have just been with a man who promises to blow his brains out, and
nothing less, if he speaks to that little lady. And he is a man, madame,
to keep his word. But then I know Martial; such threats are to him
an encouragement. And, besides, we have wagered----" Here the Colonel
lowered his voice.

"Can it be true?" said the Countess.

"On my word of honor."

"Thank you, my dear Colonel," replied Madame de Vaudremont, with a
glance full of invitation.

"Will you do me the honor of dancing with me?"

"Yes; but the next quadrille. During this one I want to find out what
will come of this little intrigue, and to ascertain who the little blue
lady may be; she looks intelligent."

The Colonel, understanding that Madame de Vaudremont wished to be alone,
retired, well content to have begun his attack so well.

At most entertainments women are to be met who are there, like Madame de
Lansac, as old sailors gather on the seashore to watch younger mariners
struggling with the tempest. At this moment Madame de Lansac, who seemed
to be interested in the personages of this drama, could easily guess
the agitation which the Countess was going through. The lady might fan
herself gracefully, smile on the young men who bowed to her, and bring
into play all the arts by which a woman hides her emotion,--the Dowager,
one of the most clear-sighted and mischief-loving duchesses bequeathed
by the eighteenth century to the nineteenth, could read her heart and
mind through it all.

The old lady seemed to detect the slightest movement that revealed the
impressions of the soul. The imperceptible frown that furrowed that
calm, pure forehead, the faintest quiver of the cheeks, the curve of the
eyebrows, the least curl of the lips, whose living coral could conceal
nothing from her,--all these were to the Duchess like the print of a