nce."

As I said this, I thought I perceived a slight movement, that indicated
some emotion.

"It was a gallant speech, and the modiste is pleased with the
compliment," thought I.

Her reply:--

"It flatters me, sir, that you prefer my company to that of the many
splendid beauties who are in this saloon; though it may gratify me still
more _if you knew who I am_."

The last clause was uttered with an emphasis, and followed by a sigh!

"Poor girl!" thought I, "she fancies that I mistake her for some grand
dame--that if I knew her real position her humble avocation, I should
not longer care to dance with her. In that she is mistaken. I make no
distinction between a milliner and a marchioness, especially in a
ball-room. There, grace and beauty alone guide to preference."

After giving way to some such reflections, I replied--

"It is my regret, mam'selle, not to have the happiness of knowing who
you are, and it is not possible I ever may, unless you will have the
goodness to remove your mask."

"Ah! monsieur, what you request is impossible."

"Impossible! and why may I ask?"

"Because, were you to see my face, I should not have you for my partner
in the next dance; and to say the truth, I should regret that, since you
waltz so admirably."

"Oh! refusal and flattery in the same breath! No, mam'selle, I am sure
_your_ face will never be the means of your losing a partner. Come! let
me beg of you to remove that envious counterfeit. Let us converse
freely face to face. _I_ am not masked, as you see."

"In truth, sir, you have no reason to hide your face, which is more than
I can say for many other men in this room."

"Quick-witted milliner," thought I. "Bravo, Ranelagh! Vive la
Mabille!"

"Thanks, amiable masker!" I replied. "But you are too generous: you
flatter me--"

"It is worth while," rejoined she, interrupting me; "it improves your
cheek: blushes become you, ha, ha, ha!"

"The deuce!" I ejaculated, half aloud, "this _dame du Boulevard_ is
laughing at me!"

"But what _are_ you?" she continued, suddenly changing her tone. "You
are not a Mexican? Are you soldier or civilian?"

"What would you take me for?"

"A poet, from your pale face, but more from the manner in which I have
heard you sigh."

"I have not sighed since we sat down."

"No--but before we sat down."

"What! in the dance?"

"No--before the dance."

"Ha! then you observed me before?"

"O yes, your plain dress r