t she showed her art in her tragedy, but her nature in
her comedy. The soft exquisite humor of her Hortensia can not be
adequately described. She kept her audience, including the king, in a
roar of laughter, and when, fastening her glowing eyes on Count Saxe,
as Clitander, she said, in the most innocent sweet voice imaginable,
that she had chosen him because he was "sober, sensible, constant and
discreet," even I had to join the shrieks of amusement; and I never
thought to laugh at Count Saxe.

I could see that the applause had got into Francezka's blood. She
dearly loved a triumph, and she had one now. She was ever the most
graceful creature alive and knew how to make what beauty she had
shine, for I have ever said her taste, her grace, her charm and her
wit were three-fourths of her beauty. At that moment, therefore, all
these things, beauties in themselves, were most in evidence. Her
eyes were luminous and had a kind of veiled brilliance. She was
smiling--her mouth was not perfectly straight, and when she smiled
there was a charming little curve and dimple in the left corner of it,
which gave a piquancy to her eloquent face.

She had a tiny foot, and always wore the most beautiful shoes
imaginable--and in some way, although she seemed careful not to show
her feet, they were always seen. I glanced toward Gaston Cheverny. I
was far back, leaning against the wall, that being my usual station,
and he was one of a number of gentlemen for whom seats were provided,
but who preferred to stand back of the ladies. I saw in his face his
pride and love of Francezka. He seemed to me then more like the Gaston
of former days than I had yet seen him. My heart warmed a little to
him.

When the plays were over Monsieur Voltaire made a short speech. At
that stage of his career he was very anxious to curry favor with the
great, especially as he knew the king did not like him, but no matter
how hard he struggled to be universally flattering, some tinge of his
native sardonic humor would crop out in spite of him. For example, he
complimented Francezka so highly that there was nothing left to be
said of the other ladies, and of course the perfunctory praise he gave
them did not make them love him any the better. Then he made a slight
though obvious allusion to Francezka's long waiting for her husband's
return, comparing it to Penelope, which would have been mightily
effective if he had not said something further about her bringing
conj