“Well! for heaven’s sake, monsieur, do you propose to stand there without budging? Oh! how awkward men are under some circumstances!” We carried the chair to the window, and someone brought salts. “Hold the lady’s head,” said Caroline to me. “Come this way. Upon my word, I don’t know what you can be thinking about to-night, but you act as if you did not hear me.--Poor woman! how pale she is! But she is pretty, for all that, isn’t she? Tell me, don’t you think her pretty?” “Yes, mademoiselle.” “I am very lucky to be able to get that out of you. Ah! she is coming to herself.” Eugénie opened her eyes. She seemed to be trying to collect her thoughts. At last she looked slowly about her, and I was the first person whom she saw. She instantly lowered her eyes and put her hand to her forehead. “You frightened me terribly, madame,” said Caroline. “How do you feel now?” “Thank you, mademoiselle, it was an attack of vertigo; I am better. But I would like to go back to my room.” As she spoke, she tried to rise, but fell back in her chair, faltering: “I feel quite helpless!” “Pray stay with us; this will pass away; it comes from the nerves. You will be comfortable by the window. Solitude causes ennui, and ennui increases one’s suffering. Isn’t that so, Monsieur Dalbreuse?--Well! he isn’t listening to me; I can’t imagine what is the matter with him to-night.” While Caroline was speaking, I had walked away from Eugénie’s chair. She remained seated there, with her face turned toward the window; she did not look into the salon again. “I never had an ill turn but once in my life,” said Monsieur Roquencourt, “and that was caused by the heat. I had agreed to play the part of Arlequin in _Colombine Mannequin_; I was not very anxious to do it, for I dreaded the mask; but the company begged so hard that I had to yield. It was Madame la Marquise de Crézieux who played Colombine. A fascinating woman, on my word! I had a weakness for her. When I saw her as Colombine, she looked so pretty, that I made it a point of honor to do my best, and I played Arlequin magnificently. I performed a thousand capers and tricks; I was a regular cat! At the end of the play they threw flowers to me; the audience was in transports, in delirium! But I, bless my soul! I could stand it no longer! I fell when I reached the wings; and if they hadn’t torn my mask off at once, it would have been all over with me; I should have suffocated!” Several persons went to Eugénie to ask her how she felt. I did not hear her replies, but she did not move. She was afraid of meeting my eyes again, no doubt, if she turned her head. She had not brought her daughter with her. What a pity! And yet, if she had brought her, should I have been able to conceal my affection? Ah! I felt that I had remained there too long! I should have returned to Paris to see my daughter long before.