claimed. "Do you suppose they are giving this ball that
they may dance? not at all! it is all finesse--all a plot of the
national guards, to get the young girls of the town together, when
they will probably seize them, and carry them off to Turkey."

"Ah, mamma! why, officers are not allowed to marry in time of war," I
reminded her, laughing.

On this she scolded me still more, called me a little goose, and told
me I should find out to my cost; and with this threat she left me to
prepare for the ball.

I was busy enough until evening getting everything ready. According to
the officer's advice I wore a broad red-white-green ribbon as a sash,
and my _coiffure_ was a simple bouquet of white and red roses, to
which the green leaves gave the national colour. I never observed
before how well these colours blend.

The two officers waited on us _en pleine parade_, and paid us so many
compliments, I could not imagine how they learnt them all. I was
obliged to laugh, to put off my embarrassment.

"Well, you will see tears will be the end of all this," said mamma;
but nevertheless she continued arranging and altering something or
other about my dress, that if they did carry me away, they should at
least find everything in order.

The officers accompanied us to the ballroom. I was already enjoying
the idea of the effect which my national ribbon and our two beaux
would produce; and, _entre nous_, I could not give up the hope, that
if all the others really had square heads, we should have the only two
round ones in the room!

But great was my mistake and surprise.

There was not one of my companions who had not at least twice as much
national ribbon on her dress as I had; and as to the officers, our two
cavaliers held but the third rank among them.

One was more agreeable, more fascinating, handsomer, livelier than the
other; how is it possible that men like these can shed so much blood!

There was one in particular who attracted my attention--not mine
alone, but everybody's. He was a young captain--his strikingly
handsome face, and tall, graceful figure became the braided attila so
well, it seemed to have been moulded on him.

And then his dancing! with what animation he went through the mazur
and csardas; one could have rushed through the crowd to embrace him--I
do not talk of myself; and, what was more than dancing--more than
compliments, a _je ne sais quoi_ in the large, dark, dreamy eyes; you
cannot imagine _that_,