“Oh! I did not go that length,” protested Madame de Beaucœur, nettled, but laughing heartily to hide her pique. “I only said that you were more likely than any other woman in Paris to know the girl who united all these conditions, and that, if you knew her, you would give Madame de Chassedot an opportunity of meeting her.” “And how about Madame Chassedot meeting her?” demanded Berthe perversely. “After all, the contracting powers must look each other in the face at least once before they are brought to swear eternal love and duty before Monsieur le Maire, and if this inconvenient young man flies out the room at the bare mention of such a catastrophe--dear madame, I have the highest opinion of your diplomatic powers, but, believe me, this enterprise is beyond their compass.” “Leave that to his mother,” said Madame de Beaucœur. “She is equal to it. If you find the missing element, and give her a chance of managing it, the issue is certain.” Berthe was going to reply when the door opened, and the Princess de M---- was announced. When the usual greeting had subsided, the three ladies entered on the foremost questions of the day, viz., the _salon_, the cholera, and the new comedy called _La Beauté du Diable_ that was setting all Paris by the ears. The trio were not long alone. The rooms were filling rapidly, but the new-comers, instead of checking the conversation, enlivened it, every fresh arrival falling in with the current and propelling it. “The Empress does not believe it to be contagious, and holds it of primary importance that the popular belief to the contrary should be practically repudiated,” said an old senator, who joined the circle while the cholera was on the _tapis_, “This was the chief motive of her visit to Amiens. I have just been to the Tuileries, and heard the account of it.” “Racontez, monsieur, racontez!” exclaimed Berthe, recognizing his white hairs by making room for him on the sofa beside her.