the Cleopatra-like drops of pearls which
seemed to have been showered over the wearer from brow to foot.

Bertha's eyes were too ingenuous not to betray their occupation; but
those of the marchioness seemed only to be looking, with the most
complimentary expression of interest, into the face of her new
acquaintance, while, in reality, she was scanning Bertha's picturesque
attire, and longing to discover by what tasteful fingers it had been
contrived; examining the polished ivy intertwined among her bright
ringlets, and the half-blown roses just bursting their sheaths in a
glossy covert of amber tresses; and wondering that a coiffure with such
poetic taste could have existed unknown in Brittany. As the marchioness
stood, dropping sweet, meaningless words from her dewy lips, Bertha's
hand was claimed by the Duke de Montauban, and she was led to the dance.

She was moving through the quadrille with a languid, unelastic motion,
very unlike her usual springing step, when she caught sight of M. de
Bois, standing at a short distance, with his face turned toward her. The
smile that accompanied her bow of greeting drew him nearer. As the dance
ended, and her partner was reconducting her to the countess, M. de Bois
overcame his timidity sufficiently to join her.

"Where is Mademoiselle Mad--ad--adeleine?" he inquired. "I have not seen
her."

"She is not here. She would not come," sighed Bertha, stopping abruptly,
though they had not quite reached her chaperone's side.

"Is she ill? She told me this morning that she would certainly be here.
Has anything happened?" asked M. de Bois, speaking as distinctly as
though he had never stammered in his life, and throwing off, in his
growing excitement, all the awkwardness of his constitutional
diffidence.

Bertha could not but remark his anxious expression, and a suspicion,
which she had essayed to banish, once more took possession of her mind.
But she loved Madeleine with such absolute devotion, that this vague,
uncomfortable sensation was quickly displaced by a purer emotion.
Glancing at the countess to see that she was not within hearing
distance, she disengaged her arm from that of the duke, with a bow which
he interpreted into a dismissal, and then, turning eagerly to M. de
Bois, recounted to him, in a low, hurried tone, the occurrences of the
morning. She fancied she heard words which sounded very like muttered
imprecations. He was perhaps putting into practice his new method