pose you 'd much rather look at the beauties
of the Court than hear long stories about literature and politics. And
there is the gem of loveliness among them."

I turned my eyes as he spoke, and close beside me, engaged in an eager
conversation with an old lady, stood a young and most beautiful girl.
Her long hair, through which, in the then mode, violets were wreathed
and interwoven, descended in rich masses of curl over a neck white as
marble. The corsage of her dress, which, in imitation of Greek costume,
was made low, displayed her well-rounded shoulders to the greatest
advantage; and though rather below than above the middle size, there
was a dignity and grace in the air of her figure, and a certain elegance
about her slightest movements, that was most fascinating.

"And the 'Rose de Provence,'--how is she this evening?" said my
companion, rising suddenly, and presenting himself with a smile before
her.

"Ah! you here. Monsieur de Custine? we thought you had been at Nancy."

The accent, the tone of voice in which she said these few words, sent
a thrill through me; and as I looked again, I recognized the young lady
who stood at Madame Bonaparte's side on the memorable day of my fall.
Perhaps my astonishment made me start; for she turned round towards me,
and with a soft and most charming smile saluted me,

"How they are laughing in that room!" said she, turning towards her
other companions. "Monsieur de Custine has deserted his dear friend this
evening, and left her to her unassisted defence."

"_Ma foi_," replied he, "I got ill rewarded for my advocacy. It was only
last week, when I helped her out through one of her blunders in grammar
she called me a 'ganache' for my pains."

"How very ungrateful! You that have been interpreter to her, her tutor
for the entire winter, without whom she could neither have obtained an
ice nor a glass of water!"

"So is it; but you are all ungrateful. But I think I had better go and
pay my respects to her. Pray, come along with me."

[Illustration: The Rose of Provence 247]

I followed the party into a small room fitted up like a tent, where,
amid some half-dozen persons assembled around like an audience, sat a
large, florid, and good-looking person, her costume of scarlet velvet,
turban, and robe adding to the flushed and high-colored expression of
her features. She was talking in a loud voice, and with an accent of
such _patois_ as I should much more naturally have expect