buttonhole.

And there was one more who was not drawn into the general merriment. He
sat on the right of Mademoiselle Adèle, while on the left was her new
lover, the corpulent Anatole, who had surfeited himself on truffles.

During dinner Mademoiselle Adèle had endeavoured, by many innocent
little arts, to infuse some life into her right-hand neighbour. However,
he remained very quiet, answering her courteously, but briefly, and in
an undertone.

At first she thought he was a Pole--one of those very tiresome specimens
who wander about and pretend to be outlaws. However, she soon perceived
that she had made a mistake, and this piqued Mademoiselle Adèle. For one
of her many specialties was the ability to immediately 'assort' all the
foreigners with whom she mingled, and she used to declare that she could
guess a man's nationality as soon as she had spoken ten words with him.

But this taciturn stranger caused her much perplexed cogitation. If he
had only been fair-haired, she would at once have set him down as an
Englishman, for he talked like one. But he had dark hair, a thick black
moustache, and a nice little figure. His fingers were remarkably long,
and he had a peculiar way of trifling with his bread and playing with
his dessert-fork.

'He is a musician,' whispered Mademoiselle Adèle to her stout friend.

'Ah!' replied Monsieur Anatole. 'I am afraid I have eaten too many
truffles.'