f did not reply.

He then appealed to her kindness of heart, her reason, her sentiment. He
knew how to remain "Monsieur le Comte," yet showing himself at the same
time chivalrous, flattering--in a word, altogether amiable. He exalted
the sacrifice she would be making for them, touched upon their
gratitude, and with a final flash of roguishness, "Besides, my dear, he
may think himself lucky--he will not find many such pretty girls as you
in his own country!"

Boule de Suif said nothing and rejoined the rest of the party.

When they returned, she went straight to her room and did not come down
again. The anxiety was terrible. What was she going to do? How
unspeakably mortifying if she still persisted in her refusal!

The dinner-hour arrived, they waited for her in vain. Monsieur
Follenvie, entering presently, announced that Mademoiselle Rousset was
indisposed, and that there was consequently no need to delay supper any
longer. They all pricked up their ears. The Countess approached the
innkeeper with a whispered "All right?"

"Yes."

For propriety's sake he said nothing to his companions, but he made them
a slight sign of the head. A great sigh of relief went up from every
heart, every face lit up with joy.

"Saperlipopette!" cried Loiseau, "I will stand champagne if there is
such a thing in this establishment!"

Madame Loiseau suffered a pang of anguish when the innkeeper returned
with four bottles in his hands. Everybody suddenly turned communicative
and cheerful, and their hearts overflowed with brotherly love. The Count
seemed all at once to become aware that Madame Carre-Lamadon was
charming; the manufacturer paid compliments to the Countess.
Conversation became lively, sprightly, and full of sparkle.

By the end of the repast the women themselves were indulging in
decidedly risky witticisms. Eyes grew bright, tongues were loosened, a
good deal of wine had been consumed. The Count, who, even in his cups,
retained his characteristic air of diplomatic gravity, made some highly
spiced comparisons on the subject of the end of the winter season at the
Pole and the joy of ice-bound mariners at sight of an opening to the
south.

Loiseau, now in full swing, rose, and lifting high his glass of
champagne, "To our deliverance!" he cried. Everybody started to their
feet with acclamation. Even the two Sisters of Mercy, yielding to the
solicitations of the ladies, consented to take a sip of the effervescing
wine which