“What!” he exclaimed, “is it possible that you do not recognize Viscountess Beauharnais, now Madame Bonaparte, and her daughter Hortense? Come, let me seat you beside her; there is a vacant place by her, and you can renew your acquaintance.” Madame de D. stiffened with indignation and made no reply. Taking the old Marquis by the arm, she led him to a side room and burst forth: “Are you mad? Seat me beside Madame Bonaparte! Ernestine would be obliged to make the acquaintance of her daughter. I will never connect myself with such persons--people who disgrace their misfortunes!” Presently there entered the ballroom a woman, queen-like, lovely as a dream, dressed in a plain robe of Indian muslin, a gold belt about her waist, gold bracelets on her arms, and a red cashmere shawl draped gracefully about her shoulders. “Eh! my God! who is that?” cried Madame de D. “That is Madame Tallien,” quoth the Marquis. The high-born relic of the Old Régime flamed with wrath, and was beginning a tirade against the Marquis for having dared to bring her to such a place, when the door flew open, and in burst a wave of perfume and--Madame Hamelin, the fastest woman of the fastest set in Paris. All the young men crowded around her. “And now in heaven’s name, Marquis, who may _that_ be?” At the words demurely uttered, “It is Madame Hamelin,” the high-born Madame de D. unfurled the red banner of revolt. It was the one shock too much. “Come, Ernestine! Put on your wrap! We must go, child. I can’t stand it any longer. To think that the Marquis assured me I should meet my former society here! And for the last hour I have been falling from the frying-pan into the fire! Come, Ernestine!” And out they went. CHAPTER XI