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."