r
personal charms. Up to this time I had, I suppose, not had time to fall
in love with anyone in particular. This was probably due to the fact that
I was imbued somewhat with the spirit which prompted a Spanish songster
to write:

"Me gustan todas,
Me gustan todas en general."[1]

Then came the day when I was told that practically my engagement to her
had been approved by her family. This came, I need hardly say, as a
considerable surprise. The future was as rosy as the rosiest sunrise in
any part of the world could be--a most desirable and charming wife, a
life of contentment and pleasure. Who could ask for a better future? No
more soldiering. On the contrary, a ready-made road to success, in
whatever walk of life I chose to pursue. Some such thoughts--and many
others--passed through my mind and I plucked up courage. Still, my heart
was not in the affair, as you will see; but I argued to myself that, if
the marriage did not finally take place, it could mean only the breaking
of a family arrangement, which would not result in much grief or sorrow
to my _fiancee_, as she certainly could not have become very devoted to
me personally.

A fortnight or so passed, during which some further family affairs were
discussed, and the day was at hand when the engagement was to be made
public. Unfortunately a stroke of ill luck overtook me the night before
that very day. It was the custom in Paris for those engaged in the
theatrical profession to hold annually an Artists' Ball in aid of the
charities supported by them. This year the ball was to be held at the
Grand Hotel. It was always a brilliant and picturesque pageant. The
companies playing in the theatres entered the magnificent ballroom
dressed in their theatrical costumes, while others appeared in fancy
dresses. Remembering the fame for good taste, smartness and chic of
Frenchwomen, the beauty of such a gathering is not surprising. The
younger members of our party promised ourselves a thoroughly enjoyable
night, while the elder ones looked forward to much pleasure too. It was
about half-past twelve that the guests assembled in the ballroom to watch
the arrival of the artists. Company after company entered, amidst much
applause, and took up the position allotted to them. At a given signal
the men approached the ladies to beg for the honour of dancing with them;
it was a thoroughly Bohemian _fete_, and it was not necessary to obtain
personal introductions. One very polit