her golden hair.

Servigny looked at her for a long time: "You are adorable this
evening, Mam'zelle," said he, "I wish I could always see you like
this."

"Don't make a declaration, Muscade. I should take it seriously, and
that might cost you dear."

The Marquise seemed happy, very happy. All in black, richly dressed
in a plain gown which showed her strong, full lines, a bit of red at
the bodice, a cincture of red carnations falling from her waist like
a chain, and fastened at the hips, and a red rose in her dark hair,
she carried in all her person something fervid,--in that simple
costume, in those flowers which seemed to bleed, in her look, in her
slow speech, in her peculiar gestures.

Saval, too, appeared serious and absorbed. From time to time he
stroked his pointed beard, trimmed in the fashion of Henri III., and
seemed to be meditating on the most profound subjects.

Nobody spoke for several minutes. Then as they were serving the
trout, Servigny remarked:

"Silence is a good thing, at times. People are often nearer to each
other when they are keeping still than when they are talking. Isn't
that so, Marquise?"

She turned a little toward him and answered: