Madame Dauberny whispered in the young man's ear; I noticed that he frowned slightly and compressed his lips. Was she telling him what she had done to help me out of my predicament? What difference did it make to me whether her action pleased or displeased the fellow? Madame Frédérique no longer seemed to me so attractive as before; no, she certainly was not pretty. Moreover, what she had said to me in our last interview had cooled my feeling for her considerably. Madame Sordeville was engaged for the next contra-dance, but she promised me the next but one. Her partner came to claim her. The superb Frédérique stood up with her dark-eyed swain. What was I to do during that quadrille? It is a terrible bore not to dance at a ball in polite society, where you know no one. I concluded to find Monsieur Sordeville, remembering the advice Madame Dauberny had given me before her cicisbeo's arrival. I discovered Armantine's husband in an adjoining salon, in a group of men, most of whom were decorated; he was not talking, but listening to the others. I walked toward him, and he came to meet me. "Aren't you dancing, Monsieur Rochebrune?" "I am resting." "I'll wager that my wife isn't; she is indefatigable!" "Madame Sordeville is dancing, it is true; and Madame Dauberny, too--with a young man whom I had not noticed before--a dark young man with a moustache." "Ah, yes! Saint-Bergame. He came very late, as usual; one produces a greater effect by making people wait for one. Ha! ha! But you must know him, if you have been a friend of Madame Dauberny from childhood. You must have met him often at her house." Again Monsieur Sordeville's smile was tinged with mockery. I answered, this time without embarrassment: "I saw nothing of Madame Dauberny for a long time, until very recently." "Then it must have been during that time that she made Saint-Bergame's acquaintance; their liaison is hardly six months old. But he is on a very intimate footing with her, none the less; however, that is easily seen." The tone in which Monsieur Sordeville said this left me in no doubt that he had the same opinion that I myself had formed concerning the relations between these two. But if he believed it, it seemed strange to me that he should allow his wife to be so intimate with Madame Dauberny as she seemed to be. Was there not reason to fear that the evil example might be contagious? or was Monsieur Dauberny's conduct such as to excuse his wife's? or again, was Monsieur Sordeville one of those philosophical husbands who look upon all such things as mere trifles undeserving of their attention? I was tempted to believe that the last conjecture was nearest the truth. "Who is this Monsieur Saint-Bergame?" I asked, after a moment. "Hum! I have no very definite idea. However, he represents himself as a journalist. But nowadays, you know, a man is a journalist just as he is an advocate. Everybody writes for the newspapers, or at least tries to create that impression."