rders for supper to be ready at midnight, and we went to the
ball. I would have wagered a hundred to one that no one would recognize
me there, as the man who got the tickets had assured me that it was a
gathering of small tradesmen. But who can trust to fate or chance?

We went into the hall, and the first person I saw was the Marchioness
d'Aout, with her husband and her inseparable abbe.

No doubt I turned a thousand colours, but it was no good going back, for
the marchioness had recognized me, so I composed myself and went up to
her. We exchanged the usual compliments of polite society, to which she
added some good-natured though ironical remarks on my two young friends.
Not being accustomed to company, they remained confused and speechless.
But the worst of all was to come. A tall young lady who had just finished
a minuet came up to Armelline, dropped a curtsy, and asked her to dance.

In this young lady I recognized the Florentine who had disguised himself
as a girl, and looked a very beautiful one.

Armelline thought she would not appear a dupe, and said she recognized
him.

"You are making a mistake," said he, calmly. "I have a brother who is
very like me, just as you have a sister who is your living portrait. My
brother had the pleasure of exchanging a few words with her at the
Capronica." The Florentine's cleverness made the marchioness laugh, and I
had to join in her mirth, though I felt little inclination to do so.

Armelline begged to be excused dancing, so the marchioness made her sit
between the handsome Florentine and herself. The marquis took possession
of Scholastica, and I had to be attentive to the marchioness without
seeming to be aware of the existence of Armelline, to whom the Florentine
was talking earnestly.

I felt as jealous as a tiger; and having to conceal my rage under an air
of perfect satisfaction, the reader may imagine how well I enjoyed the
ball.

However, there was more anxiety in store for me; for presently I noticed
Scholastica leave the marquis, and go apart with a middle-aged man, with
whom she conversed in an intimate manner.

The minuets over, the square dances began, and I thought I was dreaming
when I saw Armelline and the Florentine taking their places.

I came up to congratulate them, and asked Armelline, gently, if she was
sure of the steps.

"This gentleman says I have only to imitate him, and that I cannot
possibly make any mistakes."

I had nothing to say to