Madame went to the window; madame stared far below the balcony at the
broad river which lay smooth and white in the morning sunshine; madame
drummed on the window-casing.

"It is a mare's nest," she replied, finally.

"First of all, there is D'Hérouville. True, he is in the hospital,"
observed Anne, "but he will shortly become an element."

Madame shrugged.

"There's the vicomte, for another."

Madame spread the most charming pair of hands.

"And the poet," Anne continued.

Madame tucked away a rebel curl above her ear.

"And last, but not least, there's the Chevalier du Cévennes. The
governor was very kind to permit you to remain incognito."

Madame's face became animated. "What an embarrassing thing it is to be
so plentifully and frequently loved!"

"If only you loved some one of these noble gentlemen!"

"D'Hérouville, a swashbuckler; D'Halluys, a gamester; Du Cévennes, a
fop. Truly, you can not wish me so unfortunate as that?"