absence of all calculation,
characteristic of young men whose hearts and lives are pure. Studying,
though furtively, so as not to attract the notice of Conti, the various
details which made the marquise so purely beautiful, Calyste became,
before long, oppressed by a sense of her majesty; he felt himself
dwarfed by the hauteur of certain of her glances, by the imposing
expression of a face that was wholly aristocratic, by a sort of pride
which women know how to express in slight motions, turns of the head,
and slow gestures, effects less plastic and less studied than we think.
The false situation in which Beatrix had placed herself compelled her
to watch her own behavior, and to keep herself imposing without being
ridiculously so. Women of the great world know how to succeed in this,
which proves a fatal reef to vulgar women.

The expression of Felicite's eyes made Beatrix aware of the inward
adoration she inspired in the youth beside her, and also that it
would be most unworthy on her part to encourage it. She therefore took
occasion now and then to give him a few repressive glances, which fell
upon his heart like an avalanche of snow. The unfortunate young fellow
turned on Felicite a look in which she could read the tears he was
suppressing by superhuman efforts. She asked him in a friendly tone why
he was eating nothing. The question piqued him, and he began to force
himself to eat and to take part in the conversation.

But whatever he did, Madame de Rochefide paid little attention to him.
Mademoiselle des Touches having started the topic of her journey to
Italy she related, very wittily, many of its incidents, which made
Claude Vignon, Conti, and Felicite laugh.

"Ah!" thought Calyste, "how far such a woman is from me! Will she ever
deign to notice me?"

Mademoiselle des Touches was struck with the expression she now saw on
Calyste's face, and tried to console him with a look of sympathy. Claude
Vignon intercepted that look. From that moment the great critic expanded
into gaiety that overflowed in sarcasm. He maintained to Beatrix that
love existed only by desire; that most women deceived themselves in
loving; that they loved for reasons unknown to men and to themselves;
that they wanted to deceive themselves, and that the best among them
were artful.

"Keep to books, and don't criticise our lives," said Camille, glancing
at him imperiously.

The dinner ceased to be gay. Claude Vignon's sarcasm had made the