the colonelcy of my regiment, and, of
course, I must attend his levee tomorrow. Will you come?"

My look was a sufficient answer.

"Ah!" said he, "you will not. Ah! there is exactly the national
difference. Marriage opens the world to a French _belle_, as much as it
shuts the world to an English one. Mademoiselle is certainly very
handsome," said he, pausing, and fixing his opera-glass on her. "The
contour of her countenance is positively fine; it reminds me of a picture
of Clairon in Medea, in the King's private apartments--her smile charming,
her eyes brilliant, and her diamonds perfect."

I listened, without daring to lift my eyes; he rambled on--"Fortunate
fellow, the Marquis--fortunate in every thing but that intolerable
physiognomy of his--Grand Ecuyer, Gold Key, Cross of Saint Louis, and on
the point of being the husband of the finest woman between Calais and
Constantinople. Of course, you intend to leave your card on the marriage?"

"No," was my answer. I suppose that there was something in the sound which
struck him. He stared with palpable wonder.

"What! are you not an old acquaintance? Have you not known her this month?
Have you not walked, and talked, and waltzed, with her?"

"Never spoke a word to her in my life."

"Well, then, you shall not be left in such a forlorn condition long. I
must pay my respects to my colonel. I dare say you may do the same to the
_fiancee_. Mademoiselle will be charmed to have some interruption to his
dreary attentions."

I again refused, but the gay Frenchman was not to be repulsed. He made a
prodigious bow to the box, which was acknowledged by both the ladies.
"There," said he, "the affair is settled. You cannot possibly hesitate
now; that bow is a summons to their box. I can tell you also that you are
highly honoured; for, if it had been in Paris, you could not have got a
sight of the bride except under the surveillance of a pair of chaperons as
grey and watchful as cats, or a couple of provincial uncles as stiff as
their own forefathers armed cap-a-pie."

I could resist no longer; but with sensations perhaps not unlike those of
one ascending the scaffold, I mounted the stairs. As the door opened, and
Lafontaine, tripping forward, announced my name, Clotilde's cheek suffused
with a burning blush, which in the next instant passed away, and left her
pale as marble. The few words of introduction over, she sank into total
silence; and though she made an effort, from time