Domestic Peace | Page 9

dress, which
adds no less to their attractions than it does to those of women, Martial
thought he might yield with impunity to the charm that attracted his
gaze to the fair stranger. Though he succeeded in hiding his first
glances towards the lady in blue from the anxious activity of the
Countess' eyes, he was ere long caught in the fact; and though he
managed to excuse himself once for his absence of mind, he could not
justify the unseemly silence with which he presently heard the most
insinuating question which a woman can put to a man:
"Do you like me very much this evening?"
And the more dreamy he became, the more the Countess pressed and
teased him.
While Martial was dancing, the Colonel moved from group to group,
seeking information about the unknown lady. After exhausting the
good- humor even of the most indifferent, he had resolved to take
advantage of a moment when the Comtesse de Gondreville seemed to
be at liberty, to ask her the name of the mysterious lady, when he
perceived a little space left clear between the pedestal of the
candelabrum and the two sofas, which ended in that corner. The dance
had left several of the chairs vacant, which formed rows of
fortifications held by mothers or women of middle age; and the Colonel
seized the opportunity to make his way through this palisade hung with
shawls and wraps. He began by making himself agreeable to the
dowagers, and so from one to another, and from compliment to
compliment, he at last reached the empty space next the stranger. At the
risk of catching on to the gryphons and chimaeras of the huge
candelabrum, he stood there, braving the glare and dropping of the wax
candles, to Martial's extreme annoyance.
The Colonel, far too tactful to speak suddenly to the little blue lady on
his right, began by saying to a plain woman who was seated on the left:
"This is a splendid ball, madame! What luxury! What life! On my word,
every woman here is pretty! You are not dancing--because you do not
care for it, no doubt."
This vapid conversation was solely intended to induce his right-hand

neighbor to speak; but she, silent and absent-minded, paid not the least
attention. The officer had in store a number of phrases which he
intended should lead up to: "And you, madame?"--a question from
which he hoped great things. But he was strangely surprised to see tears
in the strange lady's eyes, which seemed wholly absorbed in gazing on
Madame de Vaudremont.
"You are married, no doubt, madame?" he asked her at length, in
hesitating tones.
"Yes, monsieur," replied the lady.
"And your husband is here, of course?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"And why, madame, do you remain in this spot? Is it to attract
attention?"
The mournful lady smiled sadly.
"Allow me the honor, madame, of being your partner in the next
quadrille, and I will take care not to bring you back here. I see a vacant
settee near the fire; come and take it. When so many people are ready
to ascend the throne, and Royalty is the mania of the day, I cannot
imagine that you will refuse the title of Queen of the Ball which your
beauty may claim."
"I do not intend to dance, monsieur."
The curt tone of the lady's replies was so discouraging that the Colonel
found himself compelled to raise the siege. Martial, who guessed what
the officer's last request had been, and the refusal he had met with,
began to smile, and stroked his chin, making the diamond sparkle
which he wore on his finger.
"What are you laughing at?" said the Comtesse de Vaudremont.
"At the failure of the poor Colonel, who has just put his foot in it----"
"I begged you to take your ring off," said the Countess, interrupting
him.
"I did not hear you."
"If you can hear nothing this evening, at any rate you see everything,
Monsieur le Baron," said Madame de Vaudremont, with an air of
vexation.
"That young man is displaying a very fine diamond," the stranger
remarked to the Colonel.
"Splendid," he replied. "The man is the Baron Martial de la Roche-

Hugon, one of my most intimate friends."
"I have to thank you for telling me his name," she went on; "he seems
an agreeable man."
"Yes, but he is rather fickle."
"He seems to be on the best terms with the Comtesse de Vaudremont?"
said the lady, with an inquiring look at the Colonel.
"On the very best."
The unknown turned pale.
"Hallo!" thought the soldier, "she is in love with that lucky devil
Martial."
"I fancied that Madame de Vaudremont had long been devoted to M. de
Soulanges," said the lady, recovering a little