"No, on my honor. The Comtesse de Gondreville is the only person
capable of inviting people whom no one knows."

In spite of this very acrimonious comment, the fat little man's lips
did not lose the smile which the Colonel's suggestion had brought to
them. Montcornet returned to the lawyer, who had rejoined a
neighboring group, intent on asking, but in vain, for information as
to the fair unknown. He grasped Martial's arm, and said in his ear:

"My dear Martial, mind what you are about. Madame de Vaudremont has
been watching you for some minutes with ominous attentiveness; she is
a woman who can guess by the mere movement of your lips what you say
to me; our eyes have already told her too much; she has perceived and
followed their direction, and I suspect that at this moment she is
thinking even more than we are of the little blue lady."

"That is too old a trick in warfare, my dear Montcornet! However, what
do I care? Like the Emperor, when I have made a conquest, I keep it."

"Martial, your fatuity cries out for a lesson. What! you, a civilian,
and so lucky as to be the husband-designate of Madame de Vaudremont, a
widow of two-and-twenty, burdened with four thousand napoleons a year
--a woman who slips such a diamond as this on your finger," he added,
taking the lawyer's left hand, which the young man complacently
allowed; "and, to crown all, you affect the Lovelace, just as if you
were a colonel and obliged to keep up the reputation of the military
in home quarters! Fie, fie! Only think of all you may lose."

"At any rate, I shall not lose my liberty," replied Martial, with a