ter, with sprigs of gold
scattered over its shining surface, was filled with wine rivalling the
ruby in depth and brilliancy of hue, while that in the other was clear
and yellow as a topaz. Only two places had been laid on this festive
board, and opposite Zerbine sat the Marquis de Bruyeres, of whom de
Sigognac was in search. The soubrette welcomed him warmly, with a
graceful mingling of the actress's familiarity with her comrade with her
respect for the gentleman.

"It is very charming of you to come and join us here, in our cosy little
nest," said the marquis to de Sigognac, with much cordiality, "and
we are right glad to welcome you. Jacques, lay a place for this
gentleman--you will sup with us?"

"I will accept your kind invitation," de Sigognac replied; "but not for
the sake of the supper. I do not wish to interfere with your enjoyment,
and nothing is so disagreeable for those at table as a looker-on who is
not eating with them."

The baron accordingly sat down in the arm-chair rolled up for him by the
servant, beside Zerbine and opposite the marquis, who helped him to some
of the partridge he had been carving, and filled his wine-glass for him;
all without asking any questions as to what brought him there, or even
hinting at it. But he felt sure that it must be something of importance
that had caused the usually reserved and retiring young nobleman to take
such a step as this.

"Do you like this red wine best or the other?" asked the marquis. "As
for me, I drink some of both, so that there may be no jealous feeling
between them."

"I prefer the red wine, thank you," de Sigognac said, with a smile, "and
will add a little water to it. I am very temperate by nature and habit,
and mingle a certain devotion to the nymphs with my worship at the
shrine of Bacchus, as the ancients had it. But it was not for feasting
and drinking that I was guilty of the indiscretion of intruding upon you
at this unseemly hour. Marquis, I have come to ask of you a service
that one gentleman never refuses to another. Mlle. Zerbine has probably
related to you something of what took place in the green-room this
evening. The Duke of Vallombreuse made an attempt to lay hands upon
Isabelle, under pretext of placing an assassine for her, and was guilty
of an insolent, outrageous, and brutal action, unworthy of a gentleman,
which was not justified by any coquetry or advances on the part of that
young girl, who is as pure as she is modest and