, was the master of ceremonies, the handsome Neville Declouet
himself, waiting to wish us welcome anew.

It would take volumes, my daughter, to describe the admirable toilets,
masculine as well as feminine, of that memorable night. The thing is
impossible. But I must describe that of the king of the festival, the
young Neville, that you may understand the immense difference between the
toilets of 1795 and those of 1822.

Neville had arranged his hair exactly as on the day we first saw him. It
was powdered white; his pigeon-wings were fastened with the same pins of
gold, and his long queue was wrapped with a rose-colored ribbon. His coat
was of frosted rose silk with broad facings of black velvet. His vest came
down nearly to his knees. It also was of rose silk, but covered with black
buttons. His breeches, also rose, were fastened at the knees with black
velvet ribbons escaping from diamond buckles and falling upon silk
stockings shot alternately with black and rose. Diamonds sparkled again on
his lace frill, at his wrists, on his cravat of rose silk, and on the
buckles of his pumps.

I cast my eye around to find Tonton, but she had not come. Some one near
me said, "Do you know who will escort Madame du Rocher to the ball?" And
another said, "Here is Neville, so who will replace him at the side of the
pretty widow?"

As we entered the room the Baron du Clozel passed his arm under papa's and
conducted him to the platform, while his sons, following, drew us forward
to receive the tributes prepared for us. Neville bowed low and began his
address. At first he spoke with feeling and eloquence, but by and by he
lost the thread. He cast a look of despair upon the crowd, which did not
conceal its disposition to laugh, turned again quickly towards us, passed
his hand twice across his forehead, and finished with:

"Yes, I repeat it, we are glad to see you; you are welcome among us,
and--I say to you only that!"

There was a general burst of laughter. But my father pitied the young
man's embarrassment. He mounted the platform, shook his hand, and thanked
him, as well as all the people of St. Martinville, for his gracious
welcome and their warm hospitality. Then, to our great joy, the ball
opened.

It began with a minuet danced by twelve couples at once, six on each side.
The minuet in vogue just then was well danced by but few persons. It had
been brought to St. Martinville by emigres who had danced it at the
French court