"Agreed, madam," assented Florestan; then turning to M. de Riancourt, he added gaily, "I hope you will bear me no ill-will, my dear duke; you should show yourself to be a real grand seigneur, and not bargain like a banker." The orchestra; which had been silent for a quarter of an hour, now struck up a new cotillion. "Pardon me, countess," resumed the young man, "but I must leave you. I am to dance this cotillion with the charming daughter of one of the best workmen who assisted in the building of this mansion--or rather of _your mansion_, madame. And I cannot tell you how happy I am to carry away that thought in leaving you." He bowed respectfully, and vanished in the throng. "My dear Foedora," said the princess, who had remarked the long tête-à-tête of her niece and Saint-Herem with much impatient anxiety, "it is growing late, and we promised Madame de Sardaigne to come early." "Allow me to observe, madame," put in the duke, addressing his _fiancée_ in his turn, "that you were too hasty in this matter. Saint-Herem is forced to sell this house to pay his debts, and with a little perseverance we could have obtained a reduction of fifty thousand crowns at least, especially if you had requested it yourself--some things are very difficult to refuse a pretty woman!" he concluded with his most amiable smile. "My dear Foedora, what are you thinking about?" resumed the princess to her niece, who was leaning on a gilded mantel covered with flowers, absorbed in deep reflection and deaf to all remonstrances. "Foedora," repeated her aunt, tugging gently at her sleeve, "what are you dreaming about?" "I am thinking of M. de Saint-Herem," said the conntess, regretfully awakening from her reverie. "All this is so strangely odd--" "I really believe that despair at his ruin must have impaired poor Florestan's mind," observed M. de Riancourt, sententiously. "One must be mad to inaugurate a mansion with such a ball; it savors of socialism!" "The duke is right; the thing is absurd and ridiculous," chimed in the princess. "What an amusing story we shall have to relate at the embassy!--but, my dear Foedora, why don't you answer?--what ails you?" "I don't know," replied the countess; "what I experience, is most singular." "You want air, my dear countess," rejoined the duke, with solicitude. "This agglomeration of the masses is stifling; and though the apartments are spacious--" "Foedora, are you ill?" broke in the princess. "No, indeed," declared the countess, "the emotion I experience is, on the contrary, full of sweetness and charm. To tell you the truth, my dear duke, I scarcely know how to express--" "In mercy, explain yourself countess," urged the duke, anxiously. "The strong perfume of these flowers probably affects you strangely." "No, that is not it. I hesitate to speak, because you will both think me so strange, so eccentric--" "Ah! countess, how could we think you otherwise than charming!" exclaimed the duke gallantly.