"Enchanted to meet you, my fine fellows!--Cadédis! what a crowd at this ball! it is gorgeous! it is elegant! The fair sex predominates--so much the better, sandis!--I say with François I: a ball without ladies is a court without roses--no, I mean a springtime--but, no matter!--Ah! but there is our friend the Comte de Marvejols, glued to yonder pillar.--Good-evening, Léodgard! How now! not a word for a comrade?--Can he have gone deaf, I wonder? he does not answer!" "No," said Montrevert; "but I believe that he has fallen in love with the Marquise de Santoval, who is sitting over yonder." "The Marquise de Santoval!" repeated Passedix, with difficulty repressing a sigh. "That name makes you sigh, chevalier," said La Valteline; "can it be that you too are one of the adorers of that lady, who sows confusion in all hearts?" "I! oh! not at all; but I remembered that the Marquise de Santoval is no other than Mademoiselle Valentine de Mongarcin--that is all." "Vertuchoux! monsieur," said the little old man, saluting Passedix in his turn, "you have chosen an exceedingly dashing costume for the ball, and one which, as you must have noticed, produces a great effect here." "My costume is graceful and distinguished, is it not? I have always had a weakness for apple-green; it is very becoming to me!" "Yes, you wear it in a way that is peculiar to yourself." "You have the general aspect of a shrub," said Montrevert. "So much the better, sandioux! I am a rosebush; the ladies will be the roses." "You represent hope also!" said Monsieur de Noirteuil. "As you say, I am the chevalier of hope." "One might also take him for a lettuce!" said the little hunchback, in an undertone. "But, if I remember aright, you were all orange not long ago?" "Yes, yes, that is true; but I have had enough of my orange costume; it came very near costing me dear.--Did Sénange and Monclair never tell you what happened to me, thanks to that infernal doublet?" "No, we know nothing about it. Was it not a love adventure?" "Love adventure! Bigre!--I beg pardon, I meant to say no, by Roland!--I was arrested, taken away--the crowd was already beginning to talk of hanging me! and all because they absolutely insisted that I was the famous robber Giovanni!" "Giovanni! you, Giovanni! Ha! ha! ha! that is too absurd!--I say, Léodgard, Passedix was mistaken for Giovanni!" The name of the Italian robber produced a magical effect upon Léodgard. The amorous expression of his glance instantly disappeared; he turned toward those who had addressed him, gazed at them with a distracted air, and replied in a metallic voice: "What? what is it? what do you say? I did not hear." "I said, count, that the Chevalier Passedix, whom you see before you disguised as a lawn----" "What do you mean by _lawn_?" cried the Gascon. "No; I meant to say dressed as a meadow--in short, this worthy gentleman was arrested by mistake for the robber Giovanni!" "Ah! he was arrested?"