"Why, because, Simplicity, both of them are men, while the little Monk
on his arm is a lady, as you can see, and so is the masque that has the
arm of the Indian Queen; look at their little hands."

In another part of the room the four were greeted with, "Ha, ha, ha!
well, that is magnificent! But see that Huguenotte Girl on the Indian
Queen's arm! Isn't that fine! Ha, ha! she carries a little trunk. She is
a _Fille à la Cassette!_"

Two partners in a cotillion were speaking in an undertone, behind a fan.

"And you think you know who it is?" asked one.

"Know?" replied the other. "Do I know I have a head on my shoulders? If
that Dragoon is not our cousin Honoré Grandissime--well--"

"Honoré in mask? he is too sober-sided to do such a thing."

"I tell you it is he! Listen. Yesterday I heard Doctor Charlie Keene
begging him to go, and telling him there were two ladies, strangers,
newly arrived in the city, who would be there, and whom he wished him to
meet. Depend upon it the Dragoon is Honoré, Lufki-Humma is Charlie
Keene, and the Monk and the Huguenotte are those two ladies."

But all this is an outside view; let us draw nearer and see what chance
may discover to us behind those four masks.

An hour has passed by. The dance goes on; hearts are beating, wit is
flashing, eyes encounter eyes with the leveled lances of their beams,
merriment and joy and sudden bright surprises thrill the breast, voices