waltz; and the two friends stopped at the door to look at them. A
score of couples were whirling-the men with a serious expression,
and the women with a fixed smile on their lips. They displayed a
good deal of shoulder, like their mothers; and the bodices of some
were only held in place by a slender ribbon, disclosing at times
more than is generally shown.

Suddenly from the end of the room a tall girl darted forward,
gliding through the crowd, brushing against the dancers, and holding
her long train in her left hand. She ran with quick little steps as
women do in crowds, and called out: "Ah! How is Muscade? How do you
do, Muscade?"

Her features wore an expression of the bloom of life, the
illumination of happiness. Her white flesh seemed to shine, the
golden-white flesh which goes with red hair. The mass of her
tresses, twisted on her head, fiery, flaming locks, nestled against
her supple neck, which was still a little thin.

She seemed to move just as her mother was made to speak, so natural,
noble, and simple were her gestures. A person felt a moral joy and
physical pleasure in seeing her walk, stir about, bend her head, or
lift her arm. "Ah! Muscade, how do you do, Muscade?" she repeated.

Servigny shook her hand violently, as he would a man's, and said:
"Mademoiselle Yvette, my friend, Baron Saval."

"Good evening, Monsieur. Are you always as tall as that?"

Servigny replied in that bantering tone which he always used with