cony, exclaimed, "Oh! look, fair Godmother Fleur-de-Lys, at that
pretty dancer who is dancing on the pavement and playing the tambourine
in the midst of the loutish bourgeois!"

The sonorous vibration of a tambourine was, in fact, audible. "Some
gypsy from Bohemia," said Fleur-de-Lys, turning carelessly toward the
square.

"Look! look!" exclaimed her lively companions; and they all ran to the
edge of the balcony, while Fleur-de-Lys, rendered thoughtful by the
coldness of her betrothed, followed them slowly, and the latter,
relieved by this incident, which put an end to an embarrassing
conversation, retreated to the farther end of the room, with the
satisfied air of a soldier released from duty. Nevertheless, the
fair Fleur-de-Lys's was a charming and noble service, and such it had
formerly appeared to him; but the captain had gradually become blase';
the prospect of a speedy marriage cooled him more every day. Moreover,
he was of a fickle disposition, and, must we say it, rather vulgar in
taste. Although of very noble birth, he had contracted in his official
harness more than one habit of the common trooper. The tavern and its
accompaniments pleased him. He was only at his ease amid gross language,
military gallantries, facile beauties, and successes yet more easy.
He had, nevertheless, received from his family some education and some
politeness of manner; but he had been thrown on the world too young, he
had been in garrison at too early an age, and every day the polish of
a gentleman became more and more effaced by the rough friction of his
gendarme's cross-belt. While still continuing to visit her from time to
time, from a remnant of common respect, he felt doubly embarrassed with
Fleur-de-Lys; in the first place, because, in consequence of having
scattered his love in all sorts of places, he had reserved very little
for her; in the next place, because, amid so many stiff, formal, and
decent ladies, he was in constant fear lest his mouth, habituated to
oaths, should suddenly take the bit in its teeth, and break out into the
language of the tavern. The effect can be imagined!

Moreover, all this was mingled in him, with great pretentions to
elegance, toilet, and a fine appearance. Let the reader reconcile these
things as best he can. I am simply the historian.

He had remained, therefore, for several minutes, leaning in silence
against the carved jamb of the chimney, and thinking or not thinking,
when Fleur-de-Lys