e and after drinking to the king and the
ladies, gave Gaston Cheverny's health, together with an account, as
only Maurice of Saxe could give it, of the exploit of the afternoon.

I knew not at the time if Count Saxe intended it, but he seemed to lay
the greatest stress upon Gaston's feat being performed with the right
arm--as if any man could have done it with his left one. My master
told me afterward, that it was quite involuntary with him mentioning
Gaston Cheverny's right arm, that he meant rather to avoid it, but, to
his chagrin, the words kept coming up in his speech, he, all the
while, feeling that it sounded foolish to mention that it was done
with the right arm.

I glanced toward Francezka while Count Saxe was speaking. There are
some inconveniences attached to sharpness of intellect--nothing escapes
it. As Count Saxe proceeded with his recital, I saw that Francezka
had seen at a glance the mystery in it. I had no apprehension of any
show of agitation on her part, she was a woman of too flawless
courage and too good an actress, but she would not suffer the less. I
saw a shadow come over her eyes as I had seen a black cloud darken the
face of the lake at Capello. I saw her hands tremble slightly. She
looked steadily at Count Saxe, and avoided the gaze of Gaston Cheverny
which became fixed on her. He had taken more wine than usual. His
steady glances, although smiling enough, were calculated to draw her
gaze toward him.

At last, as if forced against her will, she raised her eyes to his,
and in them was doubt and despair. All this went on secretly as it
were, amid the talking, the laughing, the singing of a hundred persons
at the supper, with a band of more than forty musicians twanging in
the music gallery above us. Soon after this, the company arose and
went into the grand ball room. The _branle_ was at once formed, and
Francezka, as on the night before, led it with Count Saxe. She showed
not the slightest tremor or agitation, but I knew of the wild beating
of her heart under the lace and jewels.

Gaston Cheverny was the hero of the hour. He danced, too, and the
women, who all adore brute courage, wooed him with their smiles and
arch glances. I saw him dancing with Madame Fontange, whom both
Francezka and I had seen him chasing up the great staircase two days
before. Francezka was dancing in the same _minuet de la cour_. There
is a part when, to languorous music, the gentlemen, with their plumed
hats, sweep