ds, applaud; you must encourage the author;" and
the two bold women clapped their hands and shrieked out, "Let us
encourage Ballanche! Bravo! Ballanche!" It was absurd.

Madame Taverneau and her friends were indignant; they had heard the
compliment bestowed upon us--"Four women. Four monsters!" This rapid
appreciation of our elegant appearance did not make them feel indulgent
towards our scandalous neighbors. Near us were several newspaper men who
gave the names of the Prince de Monbert, the Messrs. de S., and their
two beauties. These journalists spoke with bitter contempt of what they
called the young lions of the Faubourg Saint-Germain, of the rude
manners of the aristocracy, of the ridiculous scruples of those proud
legitimists, who feared to compromise themselves in the interests of
their country, and yet were compromised daily by a thousand
extravagances; then they related falsehoods that were utterly without
foundation, and yet were made to appear quite probable by the
disgraceful conduct of the young men before us. You may imagine how
cruelly I suffered, both as a fiancee and as a legitimist. I blushed for
our party in the presence of the enemy; I felt the insult offered to me
personally less than I did the abuse brought upon our cause. In
listening to those deserved sneers I detested Messrs. de S. as much as I
did Roger. I decided during this hour of vexation and shame that I would
rather always remain simple Madame Gruerin than become the Princess de
Monbert.

What do you think of this despair, the result of champagne? Ought I not
to be touched by it? How sweet it is to see one's self so deeply
regretted!

It is quite poetical and even mythological; Ariadne went no further than
this. She demanded of Bacchus consolation for the sorrows caused by
love. How beautifully _he_ sang the hymn to Bacchus in the last act of
Antigone! He has a fine tenor voice; until now I was not aware of his
possessing this gift. How happy he seemed among his charming
companions! Valentine, was I not right in saying that the trial of
discouragement is infallible? In love despair is a snare; to cease to
hope is to cease to feign; a man returns to his nature as soon as
hypocrisy is useless. The Prince has proved to me that he prefers low
society, that it is his natural element; that he had completely
metamorphosed himself so as to appear before us as an elegant, refined,
dignified gentleman!

Oh! this evening he certainly was sincer