was partly drunk, entirely vain, not a gentleman by nature, and
outraged that anybody had dubbed him "a boy." He sought the side of a
fine young girl, the daughter of the chief of the bureau where he was
employed, and with whom he was in love. She was attired in the free
costume of republican receptions--bare arms, a low dress giving ample
display to the whitest shoulders in the room, and fine natural hair
dressed with flowers. Every gentleman who passed her during the
evening had looked his homage freely--old beaux, dignitaries,
officers, foreign deputies, _roués_--and as she had been two or three
winters in that kind of society, nothing discomposed her.

"Robert," she said, with part of a glance, as Utie rejoined her, "you
go to the punch-bowl too much. You reflect upon me, sir. Besides, I
heard you quarrelling with that handsome officer. I am dying to know
him. Who is he?"

Utie looked viciously up, anger and jealousy inflaming his heated
face, for, although he had no engagement with Miss Rideau, he
conceived himself her future suitor. But some rash words that he said
against the officer were scarcely heard by the self-possessed beauty
of official society, because, just then, the young officer and a
friend were approaching them. She dropped her eyes when she met
Lieutenant Dibdo's bold glance of admiration, perhaps in order not to
be privy to the more searching look with which, like a gentleman of
the world, he ran over the fine points of her plump body as he passed.
But young Utie, seeing the offender of a moment ago taking such ardent
and leisurely survey of the girl under his care, turned pale with
hate. The officer did not notice him at all, absorbed in the fine
colors, eyes, and proportions of Miss Rideau, and this further
outraged Utie who--to his credit be it said--had only modest thoughts