of involuntary dread were alternately legible. Montcornet stood like
the king of the feast. In this moving picture he saw a complete
presentment of the world, and he laughed at it as he found himself the
object of inviting smiles from a hundred beautiful and elegant women.
A Colonel of the Imperial Guard, a position equal to that of a
Brigadier-General, was undoubtedly one of the best matches in the
army.

It was now nearly midnight. The conversation, the gambling, the
dancing, the flirtations, interests, petty rivalries, and scheming had
all reached the pitch of ardor which makes a young man exclaim
involuntarily, "A fine ball!"

"My sweet little angel," said Madame de Lansac to the Countess, "you
are now at an age when in my day I made many mistakes. Seeing you are
just now enduring a thousand deaths, it occurred to me that I might
give you some charitable advice. To go wrong at two-and-twenty means
spoiling your future; is it not tearing the gown you must wear? My
dear, it is not much later that we learn to go about in it without
crumpling it. Go on, sweetheart, making clever enemies, and friends
who have no sense of conduct, and you will see what a pleasant life
you will some day be leading!"

"Oh, madame, it is very hard for a woman to be happy, do not you
think?" the Countess eagerly exclaimed.

"My child, at your age you must learn to choose between pleasure and
happiness. You want to marry Martial, who is not fool enough to make a
good husband, nor passionate enough to remain a lover. He is in debt,
my dear; he is the man to run through your fortune; still, that would