the
door."

All this was said with admirable coolness. The tones and intonations of
her voice, the expression of her face showed no emotion. Her audacity
was crowned with complete success. On receiving the answer from the hand
of Monsieur C-----, Monsieur d'H----- felt his wrath subside. He
was troubled with only one thing and that was how to disguise his
inclination to laugh.

The more torch-light one flings into the immense cavern which we are now
trying to illuminate, the more profound it appears. It is a bottomless
abyss. It appears to us that our task will be accomplished more
agreeably and more instructively if we show the principles of strategy
put into practice in the case of a woman, when she has reached a high
degree of vicious accomplishment. An example suggests more maxims and
reveals the existence of more methods than all possible theories.

One day at the end of a dinner given to certain intimate friends by
Prince Lebrun, the guests, heated by champagne, were discussing the
inexhaustible subject of feminine artifice. The recent adventure
which was credited to the Countess R. D. S. J. D. A-----, apropos of a
necklace, was the subject first broached. A highly esteemed artist, a
gifted friend of the emperor, was vigorously maintaining the opinion,
which seemed somewhat unmanly, that it was forbidden to a man to resist
successfully the webs woven by a woman.

"It is my happy experience," he said, "that to them nothing is sacred."

The ladies protested.

"But I can cite an instance in point."

"It is an exception!"

"Let us hear the story," said a young lady.

"Yes, tell it to us," cried all the guests.

The prudent old gentleman cast his eyes around, and, after having formed
his conclusions as to the age of the ladies, smiled and said:

"Since we are all experienced in life, I consent to relate the
adventure."

Dead silence followed, and the narrator read the following from a little
book which he had taken from his pocket:

I was head over ears in love with the Comtesse de -----. I was twenty
and I was ingenuous. She deceived me. I was angry; she threw me over.
I was ingenuous, I repeat, and I was grieved to lose her. I was twenty;
she forgave me. And as I was twenty, as I was always ingenuous, always
deceived, but never again thrown over by her, I believed myself to have
been the best beloved of lovers, consequently the happiest of men. The
countess had a friend, Madame de T-----, who seem