For some time past, Adolphine's melancholy had almost become sadness; her eyes were often fixed on the ground, and she would sit for hours buried in thought, which, if one could judge by the expression of her features, was not concerned with pleasant memories. Suddenly, she would emerge from her abstraction, and, as if ashamed of having abandoned herself to her reveries, would glance hastily about, to see if anyone had noticed her; and would strive to smile, in order to conceal the thoughts with which her heart was occupied; but her smile was never very real, and her merriment was like her smile. Beyond the piano was a card-table, at which four persons were playing the inevitable whist. First, there was a lady evidently on the wrong side of forty, but who had once been very pretty, and who still produced a brilliant effect by artificial light, thanks to an extremely careful toilet, in which were employed all those invaluable cosmetics which help to prevent a lady from appearing old. Furthermore, Madame de Mirallon--such was her name--wore diamonds of very great value at her neck and in her ears. But those who claim that diamonds embellish a woman are entirely mistaken; we should say simply that they enrich her; and, in this connection, we may well remember the remark of Apelles: "You make her rich, because you cannot make her beautiful." At this lady's right was a man of about fifty years, with an intelligent and distinguished face, somewhat cold and reserved in manner, but unimpeachably courteous, even when, in the course of conversation, he indulged in a stinging retort. He spoke but little, however, and his dress and bearing were perfectly consonant with his age. He was Monsieur Clairval. Opposite him was a young man, neither handsome nor ugly, but dressed with extreme care, and with a head of hair worthy to figure in a wig-maker's show-window. It should be said that the young dandy was the proud possessor of a forest of chestnut locks, a fertile field for the invention of a hair-dresser. Monsieur Anatole de Raincy--such was the young man's name--played cards in straw-colored gloves, moulded to a pair of tiny hands of which he seemed to be very proud, and which he kept always in evidence. To complete the portrait, we must add a small light chestnut moustache, eyeglasses, and a constant lisp in his speech. The fourth whist player, who was the lady's partner, was a man about forty years old, a faded blonde, with a conceited and idiotic air; a doll's face, from which protruded a pair of great eyes which were always rolling from side to side with an astonished expression--an expression which never varied. He bowed whenever anyone spoke to him, and found a way to pay compliments to everybody, accompanying his speeches with a conventional smile, which he retained even when he was listening to others; all of which may afford you in anticipation an accurate idea of the ingenuousness of this individual, whose name was Batonnin.