each door before entering, only doing so after stretching her neck to
look at all the men there. This alarm, which crowned the Baron's
satisfaction, did not seem to be removed till he said to her, "Make
yourself easy; /he/ is not here."

They thus made their way to an immense picture gallery in a wing of
the mansion, where their eyes could feast in anticipation on the
splendid display of a collation prepared for three hundred persons. As
supper was about to begin, Martial led the Countess to an oval boudoir
looking on to the garden, where the rarest flowers and a few shrubs
made a scented bower under bright blue hangings. The murmurs of the
festivity here died away. The Countess, at first startled, refused
firmly to follow the young man; but, glancing in a mirror, she no
doubt assured herself that they could be seen, for she seated herself
on an ottoman with a fairly good grace.

"This room is charming," said she, admiring the sky-blue hangings
looped with pearls.

"All here is love and delight!" said the Baron, with deep emotion.

In the mysterious light which prevailed he looked at the Countess, and
detected on her gently agitated face an expression of uneasiness,
modesty, and eagerness which enchanted him. The young lady smiled, and
this smile seemed to put an end to the struggle of feeling surging in
her heart; in the most insinuating way she took her adorer's left
hand, and drew from his finger the ring on which she had fixed her
eyes.

"What a fine diamond!" she exclaimed in the artless tone of a young