m,
that I may seize the first opportunity when he ceases talking to that
pompous-looking old gentleman who has the left breast of his coat
covered with decorations."

"Well, well, take it quietly--keep cool--don't get your blood into a
ferment,--that's all I ask."

Her uncle led her across the room, accompanied by Maurice.

Diplomat and courtier were inscribed on every line of the wrinkled
countenance of the Marquis de Fleury. He never took a step, or gave a
look, or scarcely drew a breath, by which he had not some object to
accomplish, some interest to promote. An oppressive suavity of manner,
an exaggerated politeness encased him in an impenetrable armor, and
prevented the real man from ever being reached beneath this smooth
surface. Impulses he had none. The slightest motions of his wiry frame
were studied. When he walked, he slid along as though he could not be
guilty of so positive an action as that of planting his feet firmly upon
what might prove "delicate ground." When he bowed, a contraction of
sinews worthy of an _acrobat_ allowed his head to obtain an unnatural
inclination, suggestive of a complimentary deference which humbled
itself to the dust and kissed the garment's hem. Straightforwardness in
word, thought, or action was to him as incomprehensible as it was
impossible. He was a great general, ever standing on the political or
social battle-field; skilful manoeuvres were the glory of his
existence, and flattery the magical weapon never laid aside by which he
gained his victories.

Madame de Fleury was thirty years his junior. He had purposely selected
a young, pretty, harmless, well-dressed doll, as the being best suited
to further his ends in the great world. He admired her sincerely. She
reached the exact mental stature and standard which he looked upon as
perfection in womanhood, and her absolute despotism in ruling the modes
and creeds of the _beau monde_ were to him the highest proof of her
superiority over the rest of her sex.

Though he was engaged in a conversation with the emperor's grand
chamberlain, which seemed deeply interesting to both parties, M. de
Fleury broke off instantly when Bertha, with her uncle and Maurice,
approached.

"You are so radiant to night, Mademoiselle de Merrivale," remarked the
courtier, "that all eyes are fixed upon you. It is cruel of you to
dazzle the vision of so many admirers!"

Bertha, without paying the slightest attention to these fulsome words,
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