aspiring to another ministry, laid a warning finger significantly on
his lip. That gesture explained everything.

"I am happy to see you," said Beatrix, demurely. "I said to myself
when I recognized you just now, before you saw me, that /you/ at least
would not disown me. Ah! my Calyste," she added in a whisper, "why did
you marry?--and with such a little fool!"

As soon as a woman whispers in the ear of a new-comer and makes him
sit beside her, men of the world find an immediate excuse for leaving
the pair alone together.

"Come, Nathan," said Canalis, "Madame la marquise will, I am sure,
allow me to go and say a word to d'Arthez, whom I see over there with
the Princesse de Cadignan; it relates to some business in the Chamber
to-morrow."

This well-bred departure gave Calyste time to recover from the shock
he had just received; but he nearly lost both his strength and his
senses once more, as he inhaled the perfume, to him entrancing though
venomous, of the poem composed by Beatrix. Madame de Rochefide, now
become bony and gaunt, her complexion faded and almost discolored, her
eyes hollow with deep circles, had that evening brightened those
premature ruins by the cleverest contrivances of the /article Paris/.
She had taken it into her head, like other deserted women, to assume a
virgin air, and recall by clouds of white material the maidens of
Ossian, so poetically painted by Girodet. Her fair hair draped her
elongated face with a mass of curls, among which rippled the rays of
the foot-lights attracted by the shining of a perfumed oil. Her white
brow sparkled. She had applied an imperceptible tinge of rouge to her