ss.

And, in fact, for several days Mlle. Blanche had been applying herself
assiduously and quite successfully to the work of fascination which was
to bring Martial to her feet.

After having made an advance, with studied frankness and simplicity,
sure of the effect she had produced, she now proceeded to beat a
retreat--a manoeuvre so simple that it was almost sure to succeed.

Until now she had been gay, _spirituette_, and coquettish; gradually,
she became quiet and reserved. The giddy school-girl had given place to
the shrinking virgin.

With what perfection she played her part in the divine comedy of first
love! Martial could not fail to be fascinated by the modest artlessness
and chaste fears of the heart which seemed to be waking for him. When he
appeared, Mlle. Blanche blushed and was silent. At a word from him
she became confused. He could only occasionally catch a glimpse of her
beautiful eyes through the shelter of their long lashes.

Who had taught her this refinement of coquetry? They say that the
convent is an excellent teacher.

But what she had not learned was that the most clever often become the
dupes of their own imagination; and that great _comediennes_ generally
conclude by shedding real tears.

She learned this one evening, when a laughing remark made by the Duc de
Sairmeuse revealed the fact that Martial was in the habit of going to
Lacheneur's house every day.

What she experienced now could not be compared with the jealousy, or
rather anger, which had previously agitated her.

This was an acute, bitter, and intolerable sorrow. Before, she had been
able to retain her composure; now, it was impossible.

That she might not betray herself, she left the drawing-room
precipitately and hastened to her own room, where she burst into a fit
of passionate sobbing.

"Can it be that he does not love me?" she murmured.

This thought made her cold with terror. For the first time this haughty
heiress distrusted her own power.

She reflected that Martial's position was so exalted that he could
afford to despise rank; that he was so rich that wealth had no
attractions for him; and that she herself might not be so pretty and so
charming as flatterers had led her to suppose.

Still Martial's conduct during the past week--and Heaven knows with
what fidelity her memory recalled each incident--was well calculated to
reassure her.

He had not, it is true, formally declared himself, but it was evident