she maintained such an obstinately hard look that he did not venture to
make the attempt. At last, however, he cunningly, accidentally as it
were, touched the countess' gloved hand with his own, but she drew her
arm away with a movement which was so expressive of disgust that he
remained thoughtful, in spite of his usual authoritative and despotic
character, and he said: "Gabrielle!"

"What do you want?"

"I think you are looking adorable."

She did not reply, but remained lying back in the carriage, looking like
an irritated queen. By that time they were driving up the Champs Elysees,
toward the Arc de Triomphe. That immense monument, at the end of the long
avenue, raised its colossal arch against the red sky and the sun seemed
to be descending on it, showering fiery dust on it from the sky.

The stream of carriages, with dashes of sunlight reflected in the silver
trappings of the harness and the glass of the lamps, flowed on in a
double current toward the town and toward the Bois, and the Comte de
Mascaret continued: "My dear Gabrielle!"

Unable to control herself any longer, she replied in an exasperated
voice: "Oh! do leave me in peace, pray! I am not even allowed to have my
carriage to myself now." He pretended not to hear her and continued: "You
never have looked so pretty as you do to-day."

Her patience had come to an end, and she replied with irrepressible
anger: "You are wrong to notice it, for I swear to you that I will never
have anything to do with you in that way again."