"My poor Anna has had to rest a little while; her brother trod on her foot; and he did well, too, for it is a good thing for her to rest: she was dancing too much, she----" This gentleman, in whom I had no difficulty in discovering the bridegroom, stopped suddenly when he caught sight of me, evidently for the first time. My introductress, who had dropped my arm for a moment, took my hand and said to him: "Monsieur Charles Rochebrune, a good friend of mine, whom I take the liberty to present to you." Monsieur Dablémar bowed to me, as courtesy required. Thus I had been well and duly introduced to the bride and groom and the bride's kindred; I was one of the wedding party, and I could walk about fearlessly through the salons. Having no longer anything to fear on my own account, my first pleasurable occupation was to scrutinize at my leisure the woman who had so gallantly come forward to be my buckler, and who, although she did not know me, although she had never seen me, had been willing to take my arm and to present me to a numerous assemblage as a person whom she knew intimately. I realized that she had done it at the request of a friend, to whom, as well as to me, she undoubtedly thought that she was doing an important service; but, none the less, there was a flavor of audacity in the performance that pleased and charmed me. Was it devoted friendship? was it recklessness of disposition? was it eccentricity, originality? I had no idea as yet, but I was deeply indebted to the lady, for she had extricated me from a bad scrape. In the first few moments after my introduction, I was too excited, too preoccupied, to think of examining the person who introduced me; all that I could say was that, at first glance, she seemed to have a very becoming air of originality. Now that my embarrassment had vanished, and Madame Dauberny was talking with the bride, I could venture to examine her. The person whom my pretty partner had called Frédérique was rather above middle height, rather slender than stout, but exceedingly well formed, with a something brusque and cavalierish in her gait and her carriage which was wonderfully becoming to her; her foot, while not remarkably small, was well formed; she carried her head erect, and slightly thrown back, and often rested one hand on her hip, like a man. Madame Dauberny was not precisely a pretty woman; indeed, one might have passed her without noticing her; but the more you looked at her, feature by feature, her charm inevitably grew upon you; for there was a great deal of expression in her very mobile countenance. She was a brunette in the fullest acceptation of the term; her hair was of such an intense black that it was almost blue; this is not a witticism; extremely black and glossy hair sometimes has a bluish tinge; but such hair is rarely seen.