Mademoiselle de Verneuil added not a word to that scornful ejaculation. The young and handsome Chevalier du Vissard, eager to be forgiven for the joke which had led to the insults at La Vivetiere, now came up to her and respectfully invited her to dance. She placed her hand in his, and they took their places in a quadrille opposite to Madame du Gua. The gowns of the royalist women, which recalled the fashions of the exiled court, and their creped and powdered hair seemed absurd as soon as they were contrasted with the attire which republican fashions authorized Mademoiselle de Verneuil to wear. This attire, which was elegant, rich, and yet severe, was loudly condemned but inwardly envied by all the women present. The men could not restrain their admiration for the beauty of her natural hair and the adjustment of a dress the charm of which was in the proportions of the form which it revealed. At that moment the marquis and the count re-entered the ballroom behind Mademoiselle de Verneuil, who did not turn her head. If a mirror had not been there to inform her of Montauran’s presence, she would have known it from Madame du Gua’s face, which scarcely concealed, under an apparently indifferent air, the impatience with which she awaited the conflict which must, sooner or later, take place between the lovers. Though the marquis talked with the count and other persons, he heard the remarks of all the dancers who from time to time in the mazes of the quadrille took the place of Mademoiselle de Verneuil and her partner. “Positively, madame, she came alone,” said one. “She must be a bold woman,” replied the lady. “If I were dressed like that I should feel myself naked,” said another woman. “Oh, the gown is not decent, certainly,” replied her partner; “but it is so becoming, and she is so handsome.” “I am ashamed to look at such perfect dancing, for her sake; isn’t it exactly that of an opera girl?” said the envious woman. “Do you suppose that she has come here to intrigue for the First Consul?” said another. “A joke if she has,” replied the partner. “Well, she can’t offer innocence as a dowry,” said the lady, laughing. The Gars turned abruptly to see the lady who uttered this sarcasm, and Madame du Gua looked at him as if to say, “You see what people think of her.” “Madame,” said the count, laughing, “so far, it is only women who have taken her innocence away from her.” The marquis privately forgave the count. When he ventured to look at his mistress, whose beauty was, like that of most women, brought into relief by the light of the wax candles, she turned her back upon him as she resumed her place, and went on talking to her partner in a way to let the marquis hear the sweetest and most caressing tones of her voice. “The First Consul sends dangerous ambassadors,” her partner was saying. “Monsieur,” she replied, “you all said that at La Vivetiere.” “You have the memory of a king,” replied he, disconcerted at his own awkwardness.