“Oh! how stupid I am! Allow me to introduce you: le Marquis de Chassedot--la Baronne de Galliac.” “My daughter, monsieur,” said the latter, pointing to Henriette. Everybody having bowed to everybody, the party moved on, the young people walking in front of the married women. Monsieur de Chassedot, serenely unconscious of the cruel snare into which he had fallen, and finding Henriette a lively, unaffected girl, talked away pleasantly, confining himself of course to authorized insipidities, such as the music, the decoration of the gardens, the weather, etc., and making himself, as he could do when he liked, very agreeable. “Is not that Madame de P----’s voice?” said Henriette, stopping abruptly, and bending her ear in the direction of the sound. “I think it is. Let us walk on and see,” answered her mother, and they quickened their steps. Now, though Madame de Beaucœur liked Berthe, and as a rule was delighted to meet her anywhere, on this particular occasion she was the last person in Paris she cared to meet. She could not avoid her, however, without awakening suspicions in the mind of Edgar de Chassedot which might prove fatal to her own benevolent designs on him. When Berthe saw the party, her surprise was great, and, though she said nothing, her face expressed it so naïvely that Henriette, being intelligent, noticed it, and bethought herself that there must be some stronger reason for it than the ostensible one of her mother’s meeting and walking round the garden with Madame de Beaucœur. Berthe had four gentlemen in attendance on her: a tall, _distingué_-looking Austrian, who spoke to no one, but shot vinegar out of his eyes at a handsome young Breton on whose arm Berthe leant; a dark Englishman, who made up in vivacity what he lacked in height; and another Englishman, whose notablest idiosyncrasy was an eye-glass that seemed to be a fixture, so faithfully did it stick in the right eye of the wearer, morning, noon, and night. Over and above this guard of honor the beautiful widow was accompanied by Hélène de Karodel. She introduced the two girls, who walked on together, while the gentlemen and the three married women followed. Hélène and Mademoiselle de Galliac had not proceeded far when Monsieur de Chassedot broke away from the elders, and joined them. “Mademoiselle,” he said, addressing Hélène, “I have just made a discovery so agreeable that, before I venture to believe it, I must have your corroboration.” “Indeed!” said Hélène, puzzled at the singular apostrophe. “_Couvrez-vous, monsieur_.” Edgar remained bare-headed awaiting her answer--“and let us know what this wonderful discovery is.” “You are the daughter, I am told, of that brave soldier and true gentleman, Christian de Karodel?” “You have been told the truth,” replied Hélène, her eye moistening with grateful emotion at hearing her father so designated. “He was my mother’s first cousin, consequently I claim close friendship with you,” resumed the young man.