, and in the immediate presence
of a hundred persons. But possessed of first-rate courage, and always
ready to take the consequences of his disagreeable jokes, M. de Lucenay
had been concerned in various affairs of honour arising out of them,
with varied success; coming off sometimes victor, sometimes vanquished,
without being in any way cured of his unpleasant and annoying tricks.

All this premised, we will ask the reader to imagine the loud, harsh
voice of the personage we have been describing, shouting from the
distance at which he first recognised Madame d'Harville and Sarah:

"Holla! holla! who is that out there? Come, who is it? Let's see. What!
the prettiest woman at the ball sitting out here, away from everybody! I
can't have this; it is high time I returned from the other end of the
world to put a stop to such doings as this. I tell you what, marquise,
if you persist in thus concealing yourself from general view, and
cheating people from looking at you, I will set up a cry of fire! fire!
that shall bring every one out of the ballroom, around you."

And then, by way of terminating his discourse, M. de Lucenay threw
himself almost on his back beside the two ladies, crossed his left leg
over his right thigh, and held his foot in his hand.

"You have soon returned from Constantinople, my lord," observed Madame
d'Harville, fancying it was necessary to say something, and, at the same
time, drawing away from her unpleasant neighbour with ill-concealed
impatience.

"Ah, that is just what my wife said! 'Already back, my lord?' exclaimed
she, when she saw me alight from my travelling-carriage; 'Why, bless me,
I did not expect you so soon!' And, do you know, instead of flying to my
arms, as if the surprise had delighted her, she turned quite sulky, and
refused to appear with me at this, my first ball since my return! And,
upon my soul, I declare her staying away has caused a far greater
sensation than my presence,--droll, isn't it? 'Pon my life, I declare I
can't make it out. When she is with me, nobody pays the least attention
to me; but when I entered the room alone to-night, such a crowd came
humming and buzzing around me, all calling out at once, 'Where is Madame
de Lucenay? Is not she coming this evening? Oh, dear, what a
disappointment! How vexatious! How disagreeable!' etc., etc. And then,
marquise, when I come where you are, and expect, after returning all the
way from Constantinople, you will be overjoyed to