against them. A league had been formed against them. Among its members
were the Chevalier de Blanc, the elder of the d'Arbys, the Chevalier de la
Houssaye, brother of the count, Paul Briant, Adrian Dumartrait, young
Morse, and many others. They had thrown off entirely the fashionable dress
and had replaced it with an attire much like what men wear now. It was
rumored that the pretty Tonton favored the reform of which her brother was
one of the chiefs.

Just as the minuet was being finished a loud murmur ran through the hall.
All eyes were turned to the door and some couples confused their steps in
the dance. Tonton had come. She was received with a cry of surprise; not
for her beauty, not for her exquisite toilet, but because of him who
entered with her.

"Great God!" exclaimed Celeste du Clozel, "it is Tréville de Saint
Julien!"--"Oh!" cried Madame de la Houssaye, "Tonton is a fool, an
arch-fool. Does she want to see bloodshed this evening?"--"The Countess
Madelaine is going to faint!" derisively whispered Olivier in my ear.

"Who," asked Suzanne, "is Tréville de Saint Julien?"

"He is 'the hermit of Bayou Tortue,'" responded the gentle Celeste de
Blanc.

"What pretense of simplicity, look you!" said Charles du Clozel, glancing
towards him disdainfully.

"But look at Madame du Rocher," cried a girl standing on a bench, "how she
is dressed. What contempt of fashion and propriety! It is positively
shameful."