"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, madame?" she said
with a most gracious smile.

"Why all the falseness?" thought Augustine, replying only with a bow.

Her silence was compulsory. The young woman saw before her a
superfluous witness of the scene. This personage was, of all the
Colonels in the army, the youngest, the most fashionable, and the
finest man. His face, full of life and youth, but already expressive,
was further enhanced by a small moustache twirled up into points, and
as black as jet, by a full imperial, by whiskers carefully combed, and
a forest of black hair in some disorder. He was whisking a riding whip
with an air of ease and freedom which suited his self-satisfied
expression and the elegance of his dress; the ribbons attached to his
button-hole were carelessly tied, and he seemed to pride himself much
more on his smart appearance than on his courage. Augustine looked at
the Duchesse de Carigliano, and indicated the Colonel by a sidelong
glance. All its mute appeal was understood.

"Good-bye, then, Monsieur d'Aiglemont, we shall meet in the Bois de
Boulogne."

These words were spoken by the siren as though they were the result of
an agreement made before Augustine's arrival, and she winged them with
a threatening look that the officer deserved perhaps for the
admiration he showed in gazing at the modest flower, which contrasted
so well with the haughty Duchess. The young fop bowed in silence,
turned on the heels of his boots, and gracefully quitted the boudoir.
At this instant, Augustine, watching her rival, whose eyes seemed to
follow the brilliant officer, detected in that glance a sentiment of