"Yes," said the Baron de Montrevert, leaning unceremoniously on the little man's shoulder; "but much too lovely for her husband--eh, Noirteuil?" "Do not lean on me so, baron--you are heavy, you are extremely heavy, baron!" "What do you mean by that, you crafty old man? Do you refer to my body or my mind?" "Both." "Is it true that Léodgard is here?" "Quite true; I spoke to him just now." "Do you know that Sénange has enticed Camilla, his mistress, away from him?" "How do you suppose that I know that? Do I consort with courtesans, pray? I have never cared for that sort of woman!" "Ha! ha! ha! I think that you have been very wise, my dear friend!" "You laugh, do you? Mon Dieu! if I had chosen to cover them with gold, they would have adored me." "You mean that they would have pretended to." "To a man of sense, that amounts to the same thing. Look you--you mention Léodgard; he is handsome, young, and well made; and yet you told me just now that his mistress had left him!" "That is true; and the strangest part of it is that Léodgard has not had a quarrel with Sénange; indeed, it is said that they continue to be good friends." "Par la sambleu! I should say so! What greater service can one render a friend than to rid him of an old mistress?" "Noirteuil, you are a villain! It is very lucky for the ladies that you have that slight protuberance on your shoulder!" "Why so?" "Because it has preserved them from the tricks you would have played on them.--But I propose to try to find the fair Santoval, and, if possible, I will dance with her." "Go! go singe yourself at the candle, my handsome moth!" said the little old man, mingling with the crowd; "I fancy that more than one of you will scorch his wings; but I shall not be one!" Léodgard had turned his back on Valentine, still fascinated by her glance, by her beauty which had disturbed his senses, by her charming and noble carriage, by the grace with which she wore her splendid costume, and, lastly, by the change which the title of wife had wrought in her manner and in her whole aspect. He could not convince himself that that intoxicating beauty was really the maiden whose hand he had refused. But he remembered that in those days he had hardly glanced at her, and that she, on her side, had barely raised her eyes to his face; and he said to himself: "What a difference! What a glance she flashed at me just now! There was in her eyes a sort of ironical expression which seemed to jeer at me for having failed to appreciate her--a sort of challenge to me to refuse to do homage to her charms!--Ah! I long to see her again! to gaze upon her charms a long while, a very long while! to taste that happiness which I once spurned! Will she look at me again as she did just now?"