He passed his arm around her waist, and they swept out upon the polished floor, he erect and gallant, she light and supple as a gazelle, her chin almost resting upon her left hand, which lay upon her partner's shoulder, her other hand clasped in his. At times her long train swirled in a misty spiral around her, when they whirled about in some corner; then it spread out behind her like a great fan when they swept in a wide curve from one end of the gallery to the other. During the feverish flight which drew these two together, their breasts touched, the bosom of the enchantress leaned against the broad chest of the vigorous soldier, her soft hair caressed his cheek, he inhaled a subtle Perfume, and a sudden intoxication overflowed his heart, which he had tried to make as stern and immobile as his face. "How well you waltz!" murmured Zibeline, in his ear. "I am taking my revenge for my defeat on the ice," he replied, clasping her a little closer, in order to facilitate their movements. "The prisoners you take must find it very difficult to escape from your hands," she said, with a touch of malice. "Does that mean that already you wish to reclaim your liberty?" "Not yet--unless you are fatigued." "Fatigued! I should like to go thus to the end of the world!" "And I, too," said Zibeline, simply. By common consent the other waltzers had stopped, as much for the purpose of observing these two as for giving them more space, while the wearied musicians scraped away as if it were a contest who should move the faster, themselves or the audacious couple. "What a pity!" again said the Duchess to her husband, whose sole response was a shrug of his shoulders as he glanced at his brother-in- law. At the end of his strength, and with a streaming brow, the gypsy leader lowered his bow, and the music ceased. Henri de Prerolles, resuming his sang-froid, drew the hand of Mademoiselle de Vermont through his arm, and escorted her to her place among the other ladies. "Bravo, General!" said Madame de Lisieux. "You have won your decoration, I see," she added, indicating the rosebud which adorned his buttonhole. "What shall we call this new order, ladies?" asked Madame de Nointel of the circle. "The order of the Zibeline," Valentine replied, with a frank burst of laughter. "What?--do you know--" stammered the author of the nickname, blushing up to her ears. "Do not disturb yourself, Madame! The zibeline is a little animal which is becoming more and more rare. They never have been found at all in my country, which I regret," said Mademoiselle de Vermont graciously. The hour was late, and the Duchess arose to depart. The Chevalier de Sainte-Foy, exercising his function as a sort of chamberlain, went to summon the domestics. Meanwhile Valentine spoke confidentially to Henri. "General," said she, "I wish to ask a favor of you." "I am at your orders, Mademoiselle."