"Then I will break this one too, if you give it back to me." "Really, such gallantry--it puts all our Parisian gentlemen to the blush.--Look, Monsieur Vermoncey, isn't this a wonderfully lovely fan?" Albert, whose face had worn a pronounced frown ever since the count presented the fan, barely glanced at it as he replied: "I know very little about that sort of thing." "It is impossible to imagine anything in better taste! Well, Monsieur Dahlborne, I will keep it; for it would really be too bad for you to break it." "In that case, I am very glad that I broke the other," said the Swede, with a bow. Albert found it difficult to restrain his vexation and anger; he could not keep his feet still, and seemed to be boiling on his chair. The pretty widow, who seemed to take great delight in the young man's jealousy and wrath, and who acted as if she desired to add to his misery, handed the fan to him again, saying: "Pray look at it, monsieur, and admit that you have never seen anything so pretty and so refined." This time the young man took the fan in his hands, held it up in the air, opened it as if to examine it more closely, then let it fall on the corner of his chair, whence it dropped to the floor. The dainty thing was too frail, too delicate, to resist that twofold fall, and it broke in several pieces. Madame Baldimer gave a little shriek, which did not, however, indicate intense regret; indeed, it was possible that she expected that event and had looked forward to it. Count Dahlborne contented himself with picking up the pieces of the fan, which he coolly placed in his pocket. "There are others," he said; "prettier ones than that, perhaps; I shall have the pleasure of bringing you one." Albert's irritation increased apace; he flattered himself that by breaking the fan he would vex Madame Baldimer and anger the Swede--in short, he hoped for a scene, a quarrel; but the foreigner's imperturbable tranquillity disappointed his hope; he saw that his awkwardness--or malice, as they chose to take it--was thrown away. Madame Baldimer addressed no reproach to him; she simply said: "We all have our unlucky days." Then she resumed her conversation with the count, who continued to answer as laconically as before; in fact, she carried on the conversation practically alone, with an occasional ironical smile at her young adorer. Albert paid no heed to what was being said, and he answered incoherently such remarks as were addressed to him; but he was determined not to abandon the field to the Swede, and not to go away so long as that gentleman stayed. For his part, the noble foreigner seemed not at all disposed to take his leave, although he did not appear to be enjoying himself overmuch. Madame Baldimer probably divined the secret thoughts of her two suitors; and after entertaining them, as we have described, for some time, she herself rose and said: