o looked archly at Montoni, as if he would have
said, 'I will not triumph over you too much; I will have the goodness to
bear my honours meekly; but look sharp, Signor, or I shall certainly run
away with your prize.'

The supper was served in different pavilions in the gardens, as well as
in one large saloon of the chateau, and with more of taste, than either
of splendour, or even of plenty. Madame Cheron and her party supped with
Madame Clairval in the saloon, and Emily, with difficulty, disguised her
emotion, when she saw Valancourt placed at the same table with herself.
There, Madame Cheron having surveyed him with high displeasure, said to
some person who sat next to her, 'Pray, who IS that young man?' 'It is
the Chevalier Valancourt,' was the answer. 'Yes, I am not ignorant
of his name, but who is this Chevalier Valancourt that thus intrudes
himself at this table?' The attention of the person, who whom she spoke,
was called off before she received a second reply. The table, at which
they sat, was very long, and, Valancourt being seated, with his partner,
near the bottom, and Emily near the top, the distance between them may
account for his not immediately perceiving her. She avoided looking to
that end of the table, but whenever her eyes happened to glance towards
it, she observed him conversing with his beautiful companion, and the
observation did not contribute to restore her peace, any more than the
accounts she heard of the fortune and accomplishments of this same lady.

Madame Cheron, to whom these remarks were sometimes addressed, because
they supported topics for trivial conversation, seemed indefatigable
in her attempts to depreciate Valancourt, towards whom she felt all the
petty resentment of a narrow pride. 'I admire the lady,' said she, 'but
I must condemn her choice of a partner.' 'Oh, the Chevalier Valancourt
is one of the most accomplished young men we have,' replied the lady,
to whom this remark was addressed: 'it is whispered, that Mademoiselle
D'Emery, and her large fortune, are to be his.'

'Impossible!' exclaimed Madame Cheron, reddening with vexation, 'it is
impossible that she can be so destitute of taste; he has so little the
air of a person of condition, that, if I did not see him at the table
of Madame Clairval, I should never have suspected him to be one. I have
besides particular reasons for believing the report to be erroneous.'

'I cannot doubt the truth of it,' replied the lady grave