in childhood and left a permanent trace on his forehead.
He wore his hair slightly long, falling behind without queue or powder. In
1795 only soldiers retained their beard. Treville de Saint Julien, despite
the fashion, kept the fine black mustache on his proud lip. His shirt,
without a frill, was fastened with three gold buttons. His broad-skirted
coat, long vest, and breeches were of black woolen stuff. His black
stockings were also of wool. His garters and shoes were without buckles.
But serving him as a garter, and forming a rosette on the front of the
leg, he wore a ribbon of plaided rose and black.

And Tonton. Over a dress--a real dress, such as we have nowadays--of rose
satin, with long-pointed waist, was draped another, of black lace. The
folds, running entirely around the skirt, were caught up by roses
surrounded by their buds and leaves. The same drapery was repeated on the
waist, and in front and on the shoulders re-appeared the roses. The
sleeves were very short, and the arms bare and without gloves. It was
simple, but prettier than you can think. Her hair was in two wide braids,
without powder, forming a heart and falling low upon the neck. Among these
tresses she had placed a rose like those on the skirt. For ornaments she
had only a necklace and bracelets of jet to heighten the fresh whiteness
of her complexion.

They had said Tonton would die of jealousy at our rich toilets. Nothing of
the sort. She came to us with her habitual grace, kissed us, ignoring
etiquette and the big eyes made by the Countess Madelaine. Without an
allusion to our dress or seeming to see it, she sat down between us, told
us persons' names, pointed out the beauty of this one, the pretty dress of
that one, always admiring, never criticising. She knew well she was
without a rival.

I amused myself watching Treville and Neville out of the corner of my
eyes. Treville seemed to see but one woman in the room. He danced several
times, always with her, and when he did not dance he went aside, spoke
with no one, but followed with his glances her whom he seemed to adore. He
made no attempt to hide his adoration; it shone from his eyes: his every
movement was full of it. When she returned to her place, he came, remained
before her chair, leaned towards her, listened with ravished ear, and
rarely sat down by her side. It was good to watch Neville. His eyes
flashed with anger, his fists fidgeted, and more than once I saw him quit
the hall,