ng up and
down, immersed in distasteful reflections. He had failed to find the
girl; he had failed to get on the traces of Lagardere; he had seen
nothing of AEsop. The ball, so pleasant to everybody else, seemed to him
full of menace, and he eyed with some disapproval the jolly, noisy folk
that thronged the alleys and shook the night with laughter. Swollen with
sour humors, he leaned against a tree, cursing in his heart the folly of
those swordsmen who had failed to get rid of a cursed enemy. Enveloped,
as it were, in bitterness, he failed to notice a not unnoticeable group
that detached itself from the crowd beyond and came slowly down the alley
towards the Fountain of Diana. The group was composed of a woman in a
rose-colored domino and mask, accompanied by two tall, masculine figures
muffled from head to heels in black dominos, and their features
completely hidden by bearded black masks. The pink domino and the twin
black dominos seemed to be seeking their way.

"This," said the bigger of the black dominos, and his voice was the
voice of Cocardasse--"this must be the Fountain of Diana."

The second of the black dominos pointed to the statue shining in the
many-tinted water, and spoke with the voice of Passepoil: "There's some
such poor heathen body."

The woman in the rose-pink domino turned to Cocardasse and asked: "Is
Henri here?" And her voice was the voice of Gabrielle.

"I don't see him yet, mademoiselle," Cocardasse answered.

Gabrielle sighed. "I wish he were come. All this noise and glitter
bewilder me." And the trio proceeded slowly to make the tour of the
fountain.

But if Peyrolles, propped against his tree, was too preoccupied to notice
the not unnoticeable group, light-hearted Chavernay was more alert.
Drifting, as every one drifted that night, again and again, towards the
Fountain of Diana as the centre of festivity, he turned to Navailles and
pointed to Gabrielle. "Who is that mask in the rose-colored domino? She
seems to seek some one."

Navailles laughed. "She goes about with two giants like some princess in
a fairy tale."

Noce was prepared with an explanation. "It is Mademoiselle de Clermont,
who is looking for me."

Taranne pooh-poohed him. "Nonsense. It is Madame de Tessy, who is looking
for me."

"It might be Mademoiselle Nivelle, looking for me," Oriol suggested,
fatuously.

Choisy, Gironne, Albret, Montaubert--each in turn offered a possible name
for the unknown.

Chavernay wo