"Bless me, you boil over like milk at the least increase of
temperature!" cried the Colonel, a little nettled at so soon finding a
rival in his friend.

"What!" exclaimed the lawyer, without heeding the Colonel's question.
"Can nobody here tell us the name of this exotic flower?"

"Some lady companion!" said Montcornet.

"What next? A companion! wearing sapphires fit for a queen, and a
dress of Malines lace? Tell that to the marines, General. You, too,
would not shine in diplomacy if, in the course of your conjectures,
you jump in a breath from a German princess to a lady companion."

Montcornet stopped a man by taking his arm--a fat little man, whose
iron-gray hair and clever eyes were to be seen at the lintel of every
doorway, and who mingled unceremoniously with the various groups which
welcomed him respectfully.

"Gondreville, my friend," said Montcornet, "who is that quite charming
little woman sitting out there under that huge candelabrum?"

"The candelabrum? Ravrio's work; Isabey made the design."

"Oh, I recognized your lavishness and taste; but the lady?"

"Ah! I do not know. Some friend of my wife's, no doubt."

"Or your mistress, you old rascal."