What luxury! What life! On my word,
every woman here is pretty! You are not dancing--because you do not care
for it, no doubt."

This vapid conversation was solely intended to induce his right-hand
neighbor to speak; but she, silent and absent-minded, paid not the
least attention. The officer had in store a number of phrases which he
intended should lead up to: "And you, madame?"--a question from which he
hoped great things. But he was strangely surprised to see tears in the
strange lady's eyes, which seemed wholly absorbed in gazing on Madame de
Vaudremont.

"You are married, no doubt, madame?" he asked her at length, in
hesitating tones.

"Yes, monsieur," replied the lady.

"And your husband is here, of course?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"And why, madame, do you remain in this spot? Is it to attract
attention?"

The mournful lady smiled sadly.

"Allow me the honor, madame, of being your partner in the next
quadrille, and I will take care not to bring you back here. I see a
vacant settee near the fire; come and take it. When so many people
are ready to ascend the throne, and Royalty is the mania of the day, I
cannot imagine that you will refuse the title of Queen of the Ball which
your beauty may claim."

"I do not intend to dance, monsieur."

The curt tone of the lady's replies was so discouraging that the Colonel
found himself compelled to raise the siege. Martial, who guessed what
the officer's last request had been, and the refusal he had met with,
began to smile, and stroked his chin, making the diamond sparkle which
he wore on his finger.

"What are you laughing at?" said the Comtesse de Vaudremont.

"At the failure of the poor Colonel, who has just put his foot in
it----"

"I begged you to take your ring off," said the Countess, interrupting
him.

"I did not hear you."

"If you can hear nothing this evening, at any rate you see everything,
Monsieur le Baron," said Madame de Vaudremont, with an air of vexation.

"That young man is displaying a very fine diamond," the stranger
remarked to the Colonel.

"Splendid," he replied. "The man is the Baron Martial de la Roche-Hugon,
one of my most intimate friends."

"I have to thank you for telling me his name," she went on; "he seems an
agreeable man."

"Yes, but he is rather fickle."

"He seems to be on the best terms with the Comtesse de Vaudremont?" said
the lady, with an inquiring look at the Colonel.

"On the very best."

The unknown turne