An old beau, of at least sixty years, but who affected the dress, the gait, and all the manners of a young man, fluttered about the table, dancing attendance on the ladies; his face alone persisted in betraying his age, although its owner did his utmost to avoid the scrutiny of the curious. But his cheeks, which had fallen in on account of the loss of his teeth, a very long nose, purple at the end, and an assortment of wrinkles which streaked his temples, made it impossible for that face to create an illusion. As for the hair, it was of a fine, glossy black, which proved that he wore a wig. Such was Monsieur le Comte de la Beriniere, a venerable dandy, who still possessed a handsome fortune, although he had consumed a portion of his means by living like a prince, and paying assiduous court to the fair sex. Monsieur de la Beriniere's great fault was his obstinate belief that he was still young and fascinating, and his consequent persistence in seeking to make conquests. However, being descended from an illustrious family, and having all the manners of a grand seigneur, the count, albeit he had not overmuch intelligence, had, at all events, the merit of being always amiable and cheerful; and, as we see, he had never chosen to meddle with any but the attractive features of life. We may add that he had never married. The count left the whist table, and, approaching Madame Monleard, examined her embroidery. "Ah! what pretty work that is you are doing, belle dame! Why, you seem to possess all the talents!" "Mon Dieu! I haven't so very many!" "Is it a rug you're making?" "No; it's a design for a footstool." "What a lucky dog Monleard is! He has married a treasure!" "You exaggerate, monsieur le comte." "No, I say what I think; and if I had known you earlier---- Oh! I know what I'd have done! Ah! Dieu!" "What a sigh! Ha! ha! ha!" "It makes you laugh to hear me sigh?" "Why, what other effect should it have on me?" "Ah! women are cruel sometimes. But, no matter! if I had known you before Monleard, I would have solicited the honor of making you Comtesse de la Beriniere." "What nonsense!" "Oh! I am not joking. But fate willed otherwise. And I say again that Monleard is a lucky dog.--By the way, how is his arm?" "It is improving slowly; he can't use it yet." "It's a long while getting well.--And to think that that accident happened the very day after your wedding!" "Yes, the next day." "He fell on the stairs, I believe?" "Yes, he slipped, and fell on his arm." "For heaven's sake, Monsieur de la Beriniere, do come and advise my partner, Monsieur Batonnin. Upon my word, he's been making mistake after mistake!" "It must be my pleasure in playing with you, madame, that distracts me," rejoined the little man with the protruding eyes, bowing to his partner. "In that case, monsieur, moderate your pleasure, I entreat you, and don't trump my kings any more."