Zebiline, vol 3 | Page 5

between M. de Nointel and the painter Edmond Delorme; on the other,
Madame de Nointel, between M. de Lisieux and the Baron de
Samoreau.
Never, during the six weeks that Valentine had had friendly relations
with the Duchess, had she appeared so self-possessed, or among
surroundings so well fitted to display her attractions of mind and of
person. She was a little on the defensive on finding herself in this new
and unexpected society, but she felt, this evening, that she was in the
midst of a sympathetic and admiring circle, and did the honors of her
own house with perfect ease, finding agreeable words and showing a
delicate forethought for each guest, and above all displaying toward her
protectress a charming deference, by which the Duchess felt herself
particularly touched.
"What a pity!" she said to herself, glancing alternately at Zibeline and
at her brother, between whom a tone of frank comradeship had been
established, free from any coquetry on her side or from gallantry on his.
The more clearly Henri divined the thoughts of his sister, the more he
affected to remain insensible to the natural seductions of his neighbor,
to whom Lenaieff, on the contrary, addressed continually, in his soft
and caressing voice, compliments upon compliments and madrigals
upon madrigals!
"Take care, my dear Constantin!" said Henri to him, bluntly. "You will

make Mademoiselle de Vermont quite impossible. If you go on thus,
she will take herself seriously as a divinity!"
"Fortunately," rejoined Zibeline, "you are there, General, to remind me
that I am only a mortal, as Philippe's freedman reminded his master
every morning."
"You can not complain! I serve you as a confederate, to allow you to
display your erudition," retorted the General, continuing his persiflage.
But he, too, was only a man, wavering and changeable, to use
Montaigne's expression, for his eyes, contradicting the brusqueness of
his speech, rested long, and not without envy, on this beautiful and
tempting fruit which his fate forbade him to gather. The more he
admired her freshness, and the more he inhaled her sweetness, the more
the image of Eugenie Gontier was gradually effaced from his memory,
like one of those tableaux on the stage, which gauze curtains,
descending from the flies, seem to absorb without removing, gradually
obliterating the pictures as they fall, one after another.

CHAPTER XXI
A DASHING AMAZON
On leaving the table, the fair "Amphitryonne" proposed that the
gentlemen should use her private office as a smoking-room, and the
ladies followed them thither, pretending that the odor of tobacco would
not annoy them in the least, but in reality to inspect this new room.
Edmond Delorme had finished his work that very morning, and the
enormous canvas, with its life-size subject, had already been hung,
lighted from above and below by electric bulbs, the battery for which
was cleverly hidden behind a piece of furniture.
The portrait, bearing a striking resemblance to the original, was indeed
that of "the most dashing of all the Amazons on the Bois," to quote the

words of the artist, who was a better painter of portraits than of animals,
but who, in this case, could not separate the rider from her steed.
Seaman, a Hungarian bay, by Xenophon and Lena Rivers, was drawn
in profile, very erect on his slender, nervous legs. He appeared, on the
side nearest the observer, to be pawing the ground impatiently with his
hoof, a movement which seemed to be facilitated by his rider, who,
drawn in a three-quarters view and extending her hand, allowed the
reins to fall over the shoulders of her pure-blooded mount.
"What do you think of it?" Zibeline inquired of General de Prerolles.
"I think you have the air of the commander of a division of cavalry,
awaiting the moment to sound the charge."
"I shall guard her well," said Zibeline, "for she would be sure to be put
to rout by your bayonets."
"Not by mine!" gallantly exclaimed Lenaieff. "I should immediately
lower my arms before her!"
"You!--perhaps! But between General de Prerolles and myself the
declaration of war is without quarter. Is it not, General?" said Valentine,
laughing.
"It is the only declaration that fate permits me to make to you,
Mademoiselle," Henri replied, rather dryly, laying emphasis on the
double sense of his words.
This rejoinder, which nothing in the playful attack had justified,
irritated the Duchess, but Valentine appeared to pay no attention to it,
and at ten o'clock, when a gypsy band began to play in the long gallery,
she arose.
"Although we are a very small party," she said, "would you not like to
indulge in a waltz, Mesdames? The gentlemen can not complain of
being crowded here," she added, with a smile.

M. de Lisieux and M. de Nointel, as well as Edmond