"And could you, without being grieved, see your brother selling muslin
and calico?" asked Emilie, at the end of the third figure of the
quadrille.
"How do you know that?" asked the attache. "Thank God, though I pour
out a flood of words, I have already acquired the art of not telling
more than I intend, like all the other diplomatic apprentices I know."
"You told me, I assure you."
Monsieur de Longueville looked at Mademoiselle de Fontaine with a
surprise that was full of perspicacity. A suspicion flashed upon him.
He glanced inquiringly from his brother to his partner, guessed
everything, clasped his hands, fixed his eyes on the ceiling, and
began to laugh, saying, "I am an idiot! You are the handsomest person
here; my brother keeps stealing glances at you; he is dancing in spite
of his illness, and you pretend not to see him. Make him happy," he
added, as he led her back to her old uncle. "I shall not be jealous,
but I shall always shiver a little at calling you my sister----"
The lovers, however, were to prove as inexorable to each other as they
were to themselves. At about two in the morning, refreshments were
served in an immense corridor, where, to leave persons of the same
coterie free to meet each other, the tables were arranged as in a
restaurant. By one of those accidents which always happen to lovers,
Mademoiselle de Fontaine found herself at a table next to that at
which the more important guests were seated.
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