"Hail! my dear count, hail! Enchanted to see you, on my word of honor! you are such a rare bird--at court, at all events; no one will ever reproach you for being too zealous a courtier! But, vive Dieu! you should not abandon your place to others in this way! A Marvejols is intended to show himself, as I was saying just now to my friend the Marquis de Santoval and his charming wife." While the little old man was speaking, Léodgard had fixed his eyes on Valentine, who, in her turn, fixed hers upon him. This reciprocal glance lasted only an instant, but what a multitude of things were said during that swift flash, which seemed of the sort to kindle a conflagration! The Comte de Marvejols well deserved that a lady should rest her eyes upon him. Hardly twenty-eight years old, tall, well made, and endowed with a noble and graceful bearing, he possessed in addition very handsome features and an expression at once winning and haughty. The only points that one could criticise in Léodgard's appearance were an extreme pallor which gave to his face a suggestion of the other world, and a certain vagueness in his glance which harmonized too well with the pallor of his brow. But, as women, in general, are rather inclined to men who have something uncommon about them, Léodgard made many conquests, and his appearance at the Prince de Valdimer's had created a sensation. After exchanging a handshake with Monsieur de Noirteuil, he saluted the Marquis de Santoval; then he bowed low to Valentine, accompanying the movement with a slight smile, which indicated that it was not the first time that he had presented his respects to the marchioness. Then he walked on into another salon. "He is good-looking, very good-looking, a charming cavalier!" murmured the little old man, looking after the count. "Monsieur de Marvejols bowed to you as to an old acquaintance, it seemed to me," said Monsieur de Santoval, whose brow had grown dark. "Why, my father was a very close friend of the Marquis de Marvejols, so that the count and I are not strangers; I have met him once or twice." "Oh! I beg pardon; I knew nothing of that.--Is not the count married?" "Yes, indeed! oh, yes!" said Monsieur de Noirteuil; "in fact, he made a very absurd marriage--the daughter of a man who kept a shop; and it was his father, the old marquis, who insisted that the marriage should take place. It seems that there had been seduction, malediction, desertion--and a child with it all." "Men renowned for their _bonnes fortunes_ seem to have bad ones too, sometimes!" observed Monsieur de Santoval, smiling in a strange fashion. "It seems to me, monsieur, that the crowd is less dense," said Valentine, "and that we might walk through the other rooms now." "With pleasure, madame; I am at your service." "Lovely woman! enchanting woman!" cried the little hunchback, as he watched the young marchioness move away on her husband's arm.