ed.

"Well, yes-by the old Chevalier de Sainte-Foy, one of her so-called
cousins--rather distant, I fancy! But the independent airs of this young
lady, and her absolute lack of any respectable chaperon, have decided me
to break off any relations that might throw discredit on our patriarchal
house," Madame Desvanneaux replied volubly, as ready to cross herself as
if she had been speaking of the devil!

The Duchess could not repress a smile, knowing perfectly that her
interlocutor had been among the first to demand for her son the hand of
Mademoiselle de Vermont!

During this dialogue, the subject of it had had time to cast aside her
fur cloak, to fasten upon her slender, arched feet, clad in dainty, laced
boots, a pair of steel skates, with tangent blades, and without either
grooves or straps, and to dart out upon this miniature sheet of water
with the agility of a person accustomed to skating on the great lakes of
America.

She was a brunette, with crisply waving hair, a small head, well-set, and
deep yet brilliant eyes beneath arched and slightly meeting brows. Her
complexion was pale, and her little aquiline nose showed thin, dilating
nostrils. Her rosy lips, whose corners drooped slightly, revealed
dazzling teeth, and her whole physiognomy expressed an air of haughty
disdain, somewhat softened by her natural elegance.

Her cloth costume, which displayed to advantage her slender waist and
graceful bust, was of simple but elegant cut, and was adorned with superb
trimmings of black fox, which matched her toque and a little satin-lined
muff, which from time to time she raised to her cheek to ward off the
biting wind.

Perhaps her skirt was a shade too short, revealing in its undulations a
trifle too much of the dainty hose; but the revelation was so shapely it
would have been a pity to conceal it!

"Very bad form!" murmured Madame Desvanneaux.

"But one can not come to a place like this in a skirt with a train," was
the more charitable thought of the Duchess.

Meantime the aforesaid tournament went on in the centre of the sheet of
ice, and Zibeline, without mingling with the other skaters, contented
herself with skirting the borders of the lake, rapidly designing a chain
of pierced hearts on the smooth surface, an appropriate symbol of her own
superiority.

Annoyed to see himself eclipsed by a stranger, the General threw a
challenging glance in her direction, and, striking out vigorously in a
straight line,