The courtesan Camilla occupied a charming little house near Porte Saint-Honoré; it was in the city, and yet it was almost in the country. A garden of lilacs, syringas, and roses was behind the wing of the house in which its mistress spent most of her time; and in summer it seemed a continuation of a delightful salon on the ground floor, the portières of which were drawn aside in graceful folds, affording a view of the flowering shrubs and the well-kept paths, where the dense foliage of numerous lovely sycamores made the air as cool by day as by night. It was midsummer; a heavy, oppressively hot atmosphere had relaxed the nerves of the people of Paris. Camilla had chosen that time to give an evening party; for evening was the only part of the day when one could breathe with any pleasure, when the air was made somewhat cooler by gentle breezes, and it was delicious to stroll in the garden and rest under the shrubbery. The fascinating courtesan had chosen her time with most excellent judgment. What could be more voluptuous in summer than a garden intersected by vague gleams of light, beneath a sky thickly strewn with twinkling stars! Not far from a brilliantly illuminated circle of velvety turf, a dark path wound among darker thickets. The strains of the instruments, the perfume of the flowers, the bouquet of the wines and liqueurs of all sorts which were served to the guests, charmed and intoxicated the senses. Everyone was at liberty to do only what he pleased--constraint and etiquette were not admitted to Camilla's abode; and they who did the most extravagant things were considered the most agreeable. But it was not solely to display her gardens, her flowers, the furniture of her salons, and the magnificence of her toilet, that Camilla was giving this fête. For some time past, Léodgard's favorite had observed a noticeable abatement in the ardor of the count's passion; her lover was still as generous, as magnificent as ever in his dealings with her, but he felt no pleasure in seeing her and left her without regret; and when he passed a few hours with her, those hours seemed interminable to him, for his eyes expressed ennui rather than enjoyment. A woman seldom mistakes these symptoms; vanishing love is even more visible than dawning love; for the latter does at least observe the proprieties, while the other is sometimes most discourteous. Camilla tried to keep her lover with her, in some slight degree from love perhaps, but largely for selfish reasons: a young and comely lover who throws money about lavishly is not always easily replaced. In those days, as to-day, there were men who dealt magnificently with their mistresses, but they were for the most part old and ugly.