Balloquet and I were the last to leave the room in which we had dined; and, as we took our hats, we glanced at each other, beating time to the music, and I verily believe we were on the point of waltzing together, when the strains of a polka, nearer at hand, chimed in discordantly with the other music.

"Oho! there are several balls here, are there?" Balloquet asked a waiter, who was looking at us and smiling.

"Yes, messieurs; there are two wedding parties: one right below us, on the first floor, and another on the same floor, but in the salons at the rear."

"Ah! so there's a wedding going on in the rear, too?"

"To be sure, monsieur."

"What time is it now?"

"Half-past eleven, monsieur."

"The wedding parties should be at their height. Are there many guests?"

"A great many, monsieur. They are hardly able to dance, they're so crowded."

"Which is the more brilliant party?"

"They're both pretty fine, monsieur. But the one in front rather beats the other. It's a sweller affair."

"I understand. The one in the rear is more free and easy. They're probably dancing the cancan there. Sapristi! and it's only midnight! The idea of going to bed, when other people are going to pass the night enjoying themselves! when you can hear a lusty orchestra playing tunes that make your legs itch! Do you like the idea, Rochebrune? Don't you feel tempted, as I do, to go to one of these balls downstairs, where they're tripping the light fantastic?"

"I do, indeed! I would go with all my heart. This music makes me dance all over."

"Do you want to bet that I won't go to one of these balls?"

"Do you mean it? You would have the face to do it, when you don't know anyone?"

"Why not? I'll show you what a simple thing it would be. There are two balls. I go to one. If by chance some ill-bred wight sees fit to ask me who I am, whom I know, why, I have my answer all pat: 'I was invited to the other party, on the same floor; I made a mistake, that's all.'"

"Upon my word, that would be an excuse. You make me want to do the same thing."

"Bravo! It's decided: we will both go to the ball. And then, you see, we know so many people! it would be deuced strange if we didn't see some familiar face in a large party. Then we will just say in an undertone: 'You brought me here;' and our acquaintance will ask nothing better than to be our sponsor. Besides, we will dance, and dancing men are always scarce at balls; sooner or later, it will be the fashion to hire them. They'll be only too glad to have us. Come, which one do you choose; it's all one to me."

"And to me, too."

"Well, I'm a good fellow: the ball in front is more stylish; I'll let you have that one, and I'll take the one behind. Especially, as I feel in the mood for dancing a cancan, if it's a bit chicardini. Does that suit you?"

"Perfectly."

"We're in patent-leathers and have new gloves. It couldn't be better.—Waiter, just whisk your napkin over our boots. That's right; now we're as refulgent as suns; patent-leather boots are a blessed invention.—Forward! I may be mistaken, but I have an idea that I shall make a good thing out of this ball; and you?"

"I haven't so much assurance as you. But, deuce take it! after all, we're not people without hearth or home. And, as you say, we might easily make a mistake in the party. Come on!"

"That's the talk: forward, to the cannon's mouth!"

We went down one flight; Balloquet humming and hopping; I, slightly flustered, but none the less determined to enjoy myself. We reached the landing between the two balls; we heard both orchestras.

"Good luck!" said Balloquet; and he entered the door at the right, while I turned to the left.

I entered the room where they were dancing. A quadrille was just beginning.

"A fourth couple here! we want a vis-À-vis!" called a gentleman close beside me.—Then he looked at me and said: "Won't you be our vis-À-vis?"

"Gladly," I replied; and glancing about, I saw a lady sitting alone on a bench. I hastened to invite her to dance. She accepted. We took our places opposite the gentleman who had no vis-À-vis; the music began and we did the same; and, lo! I was dancing already before I had had time to look about me and become acquainted with the company into which I had so audaciously thrust myself.

But a man who is dancing never has a suspicious look; nobody observes him or pays any attention to him. It seemed to me that I had taken the best possible means to become acquainted with my surroundings.

After the first figure, I began by examining my partner, whom I had chosen at random, so to speak.

Chance had served me well. My partner was a very pretty brunette; her great blue eyes were at once tender and intelligent, and I deemed them to be capable of saying many things when they chose to take the trouble. A slightly aquiline nose, an attractive mouth, beautiful teeth, which she showed often because she laughed readily, black hair falling in long curls over her neck, a mode of dressing the hair which I have always liked—all these details formed a very seductive whole, and that is what I found in my partner, who was light of foot, slender, with a shapely figure, and graceful in every movement.

Then I looked about. By the manners of the women, the costumes of the men, and the prevalent style of dancing, I saw that I had fallen upon a fashionable assemblage. There was not the slightest suggestion of the cancan; but, by way of compensation, there was a distinct odor of patchouli. I was not sure whether they were enjoying themselves much; but, at all events, they accepted boredom with infinite grace.

I saw many ugly women; in a large party, it rarely happens that they are not in the majority. That being so, is it surprising that a pretty woman makes so many conquests? If nature created more of them, beauty would receive less adulation; but as it appears only at rare intervals, it attracts more notice.

However, I saw some good-looking women; others who were rather attractive; others (and that too is common experience) who had no other attraction than their youth. But I looked in vain for anyone equal to my partner.

I concluded to open a conversation with her; if, through her, I could obtain some information concerning the bride and groom, find out something as to my hosts, it would be of advantage to me in my embarrassing position.

"I am very fortunate, madame, to have arrived just in time to find you unengaged. That must be a very rare occurrence, and chance favored me."

"But you see, monsieur, I am in less demand than you seem to think; you had only to come forward. Have you just come, monsieur? I don't remember seeing you before."

"Yes, madame, yes; I have not been here long."

"What do you think of the bride? Very pretty, is she not?"

I cast my eyes about me with an embarrassed air; I saw nobody who looked like a bride. My partner, who noticed my hesitation no doubt, continued:

"Can it be that you haven't seen her yet?"

"Faith! I have not, madame; I have just come, and I have had no time yet to look for her."

"Look! there she is over yonder, by the orchestra."

I saw a young woman in the conventional costume, with white bouquet and orange blossoms.

"Do you see her?"

"Yes, madame. But why is she not dancing?"

"Because that great lout of an Archibald trod on her foot just now, and nearly crushed it. What an awkward creature he is! Anna is obliged to rest through at least two quadrilles."

I had learned that the bride's name was Anna. That was something.

"Poor Adolphe was in despair. He wanted to fight Monsieur Archibald."

Adolphe—that must be the groom's name.

"I can well understand that," I hastened to reply. "If I had been in Adolphe's place, I would have been furious, too; for, you know, on the wedding day——"

"He's so fond of his cousin! But, after all, he could hardly pick a quarrel with the bride's brother."

The deuce! I was on the point of putting my foot in it. Cousin—brother—I didn't know where I was. So Adolphe was not the groom. I was treading on very slippery ground, and had to look carefully to my steps.

My partner, who was fond of talking, soon began again.

"As for Monsieur DablÉmar, I fancy that he cares very little about it. You know the kind of man he is?"

That question embarrassed me sadly. I wondered who Monsieur DablÉmar could be, and I answered, by way of subterfuge:

"Oh! to be sure; Monsieur—DablÉmar probably does care very little about it. That is just what I was thinking, especially, knowing him—as I know him."

"Are you very intimate with him, monsieur?"

"Very intimate—why, not precisely, madame—but enough so—to have a—decided opinion about him."

"Do you think that he will make her happy, monsieur?"

"Whom, madame?"

My pretty partner stared at me in amazement as she exclaimed:

"What do you say? whom? Why, his wife, our dear Anna!"

So Monsieur DablÉmar was the bridegroom; there was no longer any doubt.

"Oh! I beg your pardon, madame," I hastily replied. "I meant to say that she will be happy, madame, very happy. At least, that is my honest opinion."

"I love to think that you are not mistaken. I knew Anna at boarding school; I know that she has an excellent disposition; and a husband must needs be very uncongenial to induce her ever to complain of her lot. But still, to speak frankly, the other one was prettier."

Once more I was beyond my depth. Who was this other one of whom she was speaking? I turned and looked in another direction; but my partner stuck to the point.

"And yet," she continued, "they say that he did not love her, that he neglected her sadly. You must have known her, monsieur, being a friend of Monsieur DablÉmar?"

"Known whom, madame?"

This time my partner looked at me in a very singular way; I was convinced that she believed that she had fallen in with a lunatic. She simply said, with a smile:

"You are absent-minded, aren't you, monsieur?"

"It should not be possible with you, madame."

This compliment changed the current of my pretty brunette's thoughts, and fully restored her amiability.—Oh! flattery! It is like calumny—some trace of it always remains.

"Your gallantry, monsieur, cannot prevent my thinking that you are absent-minded. Still, you may have reasons for not choosing to answer the questions I asked you."

"Well, madame, it is true, I have reasons—very strong ones, indeed."

"I understand."

Sapristi! she was very lucky to understand; for my part, I confess that that conversation made me much more uncomfortable than I had anticipated; for I was most anxious not to appear a lunatic in the eyes of that partner of mine, who seemed prettier to me every minute. There are people who gain by being looked at, at close range; they are not numerous, but my partner was one of them. And I was terribly afraid that my incoherent replies would give her a very contemptuous opinion of me.

"There goes Monsieur Archibald," she continued, after a moment, "trying to crush somebody else's foot; the way he capers about is perfectly horrible; I will never dance near him."

I did not know where she saw Monsieur Archibald, so I smiled without raising my eyes.

"Of course, you know the lady he is dancing with at this moment?"

"No, madame, no; I don't know her."

"But you haven't looked in their direction."

"I beg your pardon."

"Ha! ha! ha!"

My partner indulged in a burst of merriment which worried me. When she had ceased to laugh, she said:

"Mon Dieu! monsieur, pray excuse me; it is very foolish of me to laugh so."

"Why, madame? laughing is most becoming to you."

"But such a strange idea passed through my head, that I couldn't possibly keep a serious face."

"If you would tell me your idea—I should be very happy to be taken for your confidant."

"Oh! I should never dare; for it was you yourself, monsieur, who made me want to laugh."

"So much the better, madame; I am delighted."

"Look you: for some reason or other, you seem to me to be very much preoccupied by something."

"Since I have had the pleasure of dancing with you, madame, there would be nothing surprising in that."

"Oh! monsieur, you are very gallant, I see; but allow me to remark that your preoccupation has no sort of connection with me!"

"Do you think so, madame?"

"What do you suppose just came into my head?"

"I can't imagine; but if you would deign to tell me——"

"You will think me very childish.—Ha! ha! ha!"

"Well, madame?"

"Well, monsieur, I imagined that you had forgotten your handkerchief!"

I could not help laughing with her. Oho! so I had the aspect of a person who had forgotten his handkerchief. In truth, a man who is without that useful article is apt to have an anxious, unhappy look; yes, my partner had thought of something perfectly consistent with the contortions I must have been guilty of while she was talking to me. But, to prove to her that she was mistaken, I drew my handkerchief and blew my nose, although I had no desire to do so.

My partner made a charming little grimace, and said:

"I trust, monsieur, that you will not bear me a grudge for that jest?"

"Far from it, madame; indeed, it proves to me that you are a skilful reader of countenances."

"Ah! monsieur, that is very unkind of you!"

"No, madame, for you guessed that I was much preoccupied, and you were not mistaken; but the cause is much more serious than you supposed."

"Really? And will you tell me what it is?—that is to say, if I am not impertinent to ask you."

"Oh! I should be very glad to confide it to you; but I dare not."

"Why not, pray?"

"Because I am afraid that you would blame me; and I should be so sorry to incur your displeasure."

"Make haste; the quadrille is almost over!"

"It is—it isn't an easy thing to tell.—Do you waltz, madame?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"May I have the first waltz?"

"I am engaged."

"Oh! what luck! If you knew, madame, what a position I am in!"

"Would you have told me your secret while we were waltzing?"

"Certainly."

"You will think that women are very inquisitive, but I accept. I was engaged by a young man whom I don't know; I'll tell him that I made a mistake and that he may have another one."

"Ah! you are extremely kind, madame!"

The quadrille came to an end, and I escorted my partner to the bench from which I had taken her. The thing for me to do now was to show a bold front in the midst of that assemblage. In vain did I look about in all directions, I did not see a familiar face. The company appeared to be quite select. It was not one of those wedding parties where the guests shriek and make a great noise in order to persuade themselves that they are merry; the men strolled quietly through the rooms, or chatted with the ladies, without any of the shouts of laughter and violent gesticulations which sometimes give to a large party the appearance of a tempestuous sea. The deuce! I found that my presence had been remarked. I met the eye of a stout young man, who had already passed me twice and scrutinized me closely. I felt ill at ease; the self-assurance born of the hearty dinner and the wine I had drunk had already abandoned me; my conversation with my partner, having aroused a most ardent desire to form a more intimate acquaintance with that lady, had instantly dissipated the exhilaration that had led me to commit that signal folly. I was beginning to reflect now, and it must have given me an extremely foolish aspect.—Suddenly I saw that a gentleman had stopped beside me and had taken his snuffbox from his pocket. He had one of those faces which resemble the turkey rather than the eagle; a face which might perhaps have been venerable, but for an enormous nose which covered a great part of it. If I could enter into conversation with him, it seemed to me that I should cut a less awkward figure.