dancing. As far as beauty is concerned, I much prefer
that which these dark woods present, in whose depths can be seen, now
in one direction and again in another, a light passing by, as though it
were an eye, in color like a midnight rainbow, sometimes open, at others
closed."

"La Valliere is quite a poetess," said Tonnay-Charente.

"In other words," said Montalais, "she is insupportable. Whenever there
is a question of laughing a little or of amusing ourselves, La Valliere
begins to cry; whenever we girls have reason to cry, because, perhaps,
we have mislaid our dresses, or because our vanity as been wounded, or
our costume fails to produce an effect, La Valliere laughs."

"As far as I am concerned, that is not my character," said Mademoiselle
de Tonnay-Charente. "I am a woman; and there are few like me; whoever
loves me, flatters me; whoever flatters me, pleases me; and whoever
pleases--"

"Well!" said Montalais, "you do not finish."

"It is too difficult," replied Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, laughing
loudly. "Do you, who are so clever, finish for me."

"And you, Louise?" said Montalais, "does any one please you?"

"That is a matter that concerns no one but myself," replied the young
girl, rising from the mossy bank on which she had been reclining during
the whole time the ballet lasted. "Now, mesdemoiselles, we have agreed
to amuse ourselves to-night without any one to overlook us, and without
any escort. We are three in number, we like one another, and the night
is lovely. Look yonder, do you not see the moon slowly rising, silvering
the topmost branches of the chestnuts and the oaks. Oh, beautiful walk!
sweet liberty! exquisite soft turf of the woods, the happiness which
your friendship confers upon me! let us walk arm in arm towards those
large trees. Out yonder all are at this moment seated at table and
fully occupied, or preparing to adorn themselves for a set and formal
promenade; horses are being saddled, or harnessed to the carriages--the
queen's mules or Madame's four white ponies. As for ourselves, we shall
soon reach some retired spot where no eyes can see us and no step follow
ours. Do you not remember, Montalais, the woods of Cheverny and of
Chambord, the innumerable rustling poplars of Blois, where we exchanged
our mutual hopes?"

"And confidences too?"

"Yes."

"Well," said Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, "I also think a good deal;
but I take care--"

"To say nothing," said Montala