ned to
the capital, but the season had not commenced, and a ball at that time
of year was a very unwonted event. But there was a special occasion for
this fete,--a marriage between a niece of the Duchesse and the son of a
great official in high favour at the Imperial Court.

The dinner at Louvier's broke up early, and the music for the second
waltz was sounding when Enguerrand, Alain, and the Vicomte de Mauleon
ascended the stairs. Raoul did not accompany them; he went very rarely
to any balls,--never to one given by an Imperialist, however nearly
related to him the Imperialist might be. But in the sweet indulgence
of his good-nature, he had no blame for those who did go,--not for
Enguerrand, still less, of course, for Alain.

Something too might well here be said as to his feeling towards Victor
de Mauleon. He had joined in the family acquittal of that kinsman as to
the grave charge of the jewels; the proofs of innocence thereon seemed
to him unequivocal and decisive, therefore he had called on the Vicomte
and acquiesced in all formal civilities shown to him. But such acts of
justice to a fellow-gentilhomme and a kinsman duly performed, he desired
to see as little as possible of the Vicomte de Mauleon. He reasoned
thus: "Of every charge which society made against this man he is
guiltless; but of all the claims to admiration which society accorded to
him before it erroneously condemned, there are none which make me covet
his friendship, or suffice to dispel doubts as to what he may be when
society once more receives him. And the man is so captivating that I
should dread his influence over myself did I see much of him."

Raoul kept his reasonings to himself, for he had that sort of charity
which indisposes an amiable man to be severe on bygone offences. In the
eyes of Enguerrand and Alain, and such young votaries of the mode
as they could influence, Victor de Mauleon assumed almost heroic
proportions. In the affair which had inflicted on him a calumny so
odious, it was clear that he had acted with chivalrous delicacy of
honour. And the turbulence and recklessness of his earlier years,
redeemed as they were, in the traditions of his contemporaries, by
courage and generosity, were not offences to which young Frenchmen are
inclined to be harsh. All question as to the mode in which his life
might have been passed during his long absence from the capital was
merged in the respect due to the only facts known, and these were