intelligence at her niece, indicating the enterprising knight who was
about to address her, and this signal seemed to say, "There he is,
avenge yourself!"

Madame de Vaudremont caught these looks of the aunt and niece; a
sudden light dawned on her mind; she was frightened lest she was the
dupe of this old woman, so cunning and so practised in intrigue.

"That perfidious Duchess," said she to herself, "has perhaps been
amusing herself by preaching morality to me while playing me some
spiteful trick of her own."

At this thought Madame de Vaudremont's pride was perhaps more roused
than her curiosity to disentangle the thread of this intrigue. In the
absorption of mind to which she was a prey she was no longer mistress
of herself. The Colonel, interpreting to his own advantage the
embarrassment evident in the Countess' manner and speech, became more
ardent and pressing. The old blase diplomates, amusing themselves by
watching the play of faces, had never found so many intrigues at once
to watch or guess at. The passions agitating the two couples were to
be seen with variations at every step in the crowded rooms, and
reflected with different shades in other countenances. The spectacle
of so many vivid passions, of all these lovers' quarrels, these
pleasing revenges, these cruel favors, these flaming glances, of all
this ardent life diffused around them, only made them feel their
impotence more keenly.

At last the Baron had found a seat by Madame de Soulanges. His eyes
stole a long look at her neck, as fresh as dew and as fragrant as
field flowers. He admired close at hand the beauty which had amazed