"They are bewitching, but suppose a sweet smile went with them?" She rose from her seat, and in a colder, more serious manner she said: "No, you will never see me, never know me, and never will you learn anything about me." Léon stood as though petrified. "Did one ever hear of such inconceivable caprice? It is useless, madame, for me to trouble you any longer. I see you are anxious to rejoin your friends. We must look for them." She interrupted him, not noticing his anger. "Léon de Préval, that's your name, isn't it," she said dreamily, "captain of the Sixth Horse? Do you expect to stay long in the city?" "What can that matter to you, cruel one, since you do not mean to see me ever again?" "But what makes you think I don't mean to see you again? How little it takes to throw these wiseacres off their balance! I am, on the contrary, so determined to see you again that--" "_Mon Dieu_, my dear, what ever has become of you?" cried a woman's voice behind them. "We have been hunting for you these two hours past." It was the friend and escort of the pretty Mask. Thus suddenly brought together again, each in turn ran quickly over the incidents of the night. "I am worn out with fatigue, and bored to death," said the lady who had just arrived upon the scene. "For pity's sake, let us go home." "With all my heart. There is nothing to keep me here any longer." "What, so soon?" exclaimed Léon. "At least, you will not forbid me to accompany you to your carriage?" This favor was granted, and the pair followed the others out of the hall. "Be merciful," said Léon, "and finish the charming sentence you had begun when we were so annoyingly interrupted. We were talking of meeting again. But when? Where? And how? Think that in a minute more I shall have lost everything but the remembrance of you. Will you not leave me a little hope?" "Ah, then he has got over his fit of temper?" "Do not play with me now. I am about to lose you. How shall I be able to--" "Well, there is just the possibility that I may come to the Mi-Carême ball here." "Three weeks to wait! Ye gods, three centuries!" "Yes, three weeks, perhaps, and perhaps never." "I shall be dead by that time, dead with impatience and worry." "That will entirely upset my plans." "Your plans?" But they had reached the door. A carriage had just drawn up, but in the darkness it was impossible to distinguish either its color or its coat of arms. A black servant was holding the door open. "May I not at least cherish the hope that you will be sorry for my sufferings?" "Indeed, I fancy you are going to occupy my mind considerably." As she finished speaking, she sprang lightly into the carriage, and the horses dashed rapidly off.