ded on the water of the lake carrying
musicians whose notes echoed through the air. Under a marquee, placed
midway in the large avenue, the country lads and lasses were dancing
with spirit, while the old people, more calm, were seated under the
large trees enjoying the ample fare provided. A tremendous uproar of
gayety reechoed through the night, and the sound of the cornet attracted
the people to the ball.

It was nine o'clock. Carriages were fast arriving with guests for the
mansion. In the centre of the handsome hall, illuminated with electric
light, stood Madame Desvarennes in full dress, having put off black
for one day, doing honor to the arrivals. Behind her stood Marechal and
Savinien, like two aides-de-camp, ready, at a sign, to offer their arms
to the ladies, to conduct them to the drawing-rooms. The gathering was
numerous. Merchant-princes came for Madame Desvarennes's sake; bankers
for Cayrol's; and the aristocrats and foreign nobility for the Prince's.
An assemblage as opposed in ideas as in manners: some valuing only
money, others high birth; all proud and elbowing each other with haughty
assurance, speaking ill of each other and secretly jealous.

There were heirs of dethroned kings; princes without portions, who were
called Highness, and who had not the income of their fathers' former
chamberlains; millionaires sprung from nothing, who made a great
show and who would have given half of their possessions for a single
quartering of the arms of these great lords whom they affected to
despise.

Serge and Cayrol went from group to group; the one with his graceful and
delicate elegance; the other with his good-humor, radiant and elated by
the consciousness of his triumphs. Herzog had just arrived, accompanied
by his daughter, a charming girl of sixteen, to whim Marechal had
offered his arm. A whispering was heard when Herzog passed. He was
accustomed to the effect which he produced in public, and quite calmly
congratulated Cayrol.

Serge had just introduced Micheline to Count Soutzko, a gray-haired old
gentleman of military appearance, whose right sleeve was empty. He was
a veteran of the Polish wars, and an old friend of Prince Panine's, at
whose side he had received the wounds which had so frightfully mutilated
him. Micheline, smiling, was listening to flattering tales which the old
soldier was relating about Serge. Cayrol, who had got rid of Herzog,
was looking for Jeanne, who had just disappeared in th