look as if they had sprung
from the side of Jupiter, not been born into the world like ordinary
mortals. At the least word their pride is up in arms, and transforms
them, as it does the Baron de Sigognae now. If he should make love to
me, with eyes like those, I simply could not resist him; I should have
to throw over my marquis. Why, he fairly glows with heroism; he is
god-like."

Meantime de Sigognac, in blissful ignorance of this ardent admiration,
which would have been so distasteful to him, was saying to the marquis,
"Such being your opinion of my family, you will not, I fancy, object to
carry a challenge from me to the Duke of Vallombreuse."

"Assuredly I will do it for you," answered the marquis, in a grave,
measured way, widely different from his habitual good-natured, easy
carelessness of manner and speech; "and, moreover, I offer my own
services as your second. To-morrow morning I will present myself at
the duke's night in your behalf; there is one thing to be said in his
favour--that although he may be, in fact is, very insolent, he is no
coward, and he will no longer intrench himself behind his dignity when
he is made acquainted with your real rank. But enough of this subject
for the present; I will see you to-morrow morning in good season, and we
will not weary poor Zerbine any longer with our man's talk of affairs of
honour. I can plainly see that she is doing her best to suppress a yawn,
and we would a great deal rather that a smile should part her pretty red
lips, and disclose to us the rows of pearls within. Come, Zerbine, fill
the Baron de Sigognac's glass, and let us be merry again."

The soubrette obeyed, and with as much grace and dexterity as if she had
been Hebe in person; everything that she attempted to do she did well,
this clever little actress.

The conversation became animated, and did not touch upon any other
grave subject, but was mainly about Zerbine's own acting--the marquis
overwhelming her with compliments upon it, in which de Sigognac could
truthfully and sincerely join him, for the soubrette had really
shown incomparable spirit, grace, and talent. They also talked of the
productions of M. de Scudery--who was one of the most brilliant writers
of the day--which the marquis declared that he considered perfect, but
slightly soporific; adding that he, for his part, decidedly preferred
the Rodomontades of Captain Fracasse to Lygdamon et Lydias--he was a
gentleman of taste, the marquis!