t which was peculiar to herself. In that
narrow chamber, surrounded by that sombre frame of hangings and
woodwork, she was incomparably more beautiful and more radiant than on
the public square. She was like a torch which has suddenly been brought
from broad daylight into the dark. The noble damsels were dazzled by her
in spite of themselves. Each one felt herself, in some sort, wounded
in her beauty. Hence, their battle front (may we be allowed the
expression,) was immediately altered, although they exchanged not a
single word. But they understood each other perfectly. Women's instincts
comprehend and respond to each other more quickly than the intelligences
of men. An enemy had just arrived; all felt it--all rallied together.
One drop of wine is sufficient to tinge a glass of water red; to diffuse
a certain degree of ill temper throughout a whole assembly of pretty
women, the arrival of a prettier woman suffices, especially when there
is but one man present.

Hence the welcome accorded to the gypsy was marvellously glacial. They
surveyed her from head to foot, then exchanged glances, and all was
said; they understood each other. Meanwhile, the young girl was waiting
to be spoken to, in such emotion that she dared not raise her eyelids.

The captain was the first to break the silence. "Upon my word," said
he, in his tone of intrepid fatuity, "here is a charming creature! What
think you of her, fair cousin?"

This remark, which a more delicate admirer would have uttered in a lower
tone, at least was not of a nature to dissipate the feminine jealousies
which were on the alert before the gypsy.

Fleur-de-Lys replied to the captain with a bland affectation of
disdain;--"Not bad."

The others whispered.

At length, Madame Aloise, who was not the less jealous because she was
so for her daughter, addressed the dancer,--"Approach, little one."

"Approach, little one!" repeated, with comical dignity, little
Berangere, who would have reached about as high as her hips.

The gypsy advanced towards the noble dame.

"Fair child," said Phoebus, with emphasis, taking several steps towards
her, "I do not know whether I have the supreme honor of being recognized
by you."

She interrupted him, with a smile and a look full of infinite
sweetness,--

"Oh! yes," said she.

"She has a good memory," remarked Fleur-de-Lys.

"Come, now," resumed Phoebus, "you escaped nimbly the other evening. Did
I frighten you!"

"Oh! no," sa