"He is as brave as a lion, too, with it all. His friend, who served in the same regiment, has told me of many deeds of wonderful valour on M.

Olivier's part."

"That seems only natural to me. I have always believed that good and kind-hearted people were the bravest," replied Ernestine. "You, for example, must be very courageous, Herminie."

The conversation between the two young girls was again interrupted by a young man, who, after interchanging a quick glance with Herminie, politely invited Ernestine to dance.

Mlle. de Beaumesnil saw the look, and it made her blush and smile.

Nevertheless, she made an engagement to dance the next quadrille, but as soon as the young man had walked away Ernestine gaily remarked to her new friend:

"You are making me a very dangerous person, my dear Herminie."

"Why do you say that, Ernestine?"

"That invitation I just received--"

"Well, what of it?"

"Was all your work."

"Mine?"

"Yes, you said to yourself, 'This poor Ernestine must, at least, dance twice during the evening. Everybody is not as kind-hearted as M.

Olivier, but I am queen here, and I will give orders to one of my subjects.'"

But just then Queen Herminie's subject came to say that the quadrille was forming.

"Good-bye, Madame Sybil," exclaimed Herminie, shaking her finger threateningly at Mlle. de Beaumesnil. "I'll teach you not to be so proud of your wonderful powers of divination."

The young girl had scarcely walked away with her partner before Olivier came up, and, seating himself beside the d.u.c.h.ess, said:

"Who is that young girl I just danced with?"

"An orphan who supports herself by her embroidery, M. Olivier, and who is not very happy, I think, for you can not imagine the touching way in which she thanked me for my attention this evening. It was this that made us friends so quickly, for I never saw her until to-night."

"That is what she meant, I suppose, by speaking so artlessly of what she called your compa.s.sion, and mine."

"Poor child! She must have been very unkindly treated, and is still, perhaps, to make her so grateful for the slightest show of interest."

"Hers is certainly a very original character. You can't imagine what a strange question she asked me, imploring me to be perfectly frank all the while."

"No, I can not."

"Well, she asked me whether I thought her pretty or ugly."

"What a strange child! And what did you answer?"

"I told her the truth, as she insisted."

"What! M. Olivier, did you really tell her that she wasn't pretty?"

"I certainly did, adding, however,--and that, too, was the truth,--that she had such a frank and gentle manner that it made one quite forget that she was not pretty."

"Great heavens! M. Olivier," cried Herminie, almost in affright, "that wasn't a pleasant thing for her to hear. And she did not seem hurt?"

"Not the least bit in the world. Quite the contrary, in fact, and that was what surprised me so much. When one asks questions of this nature, a request to be frank generally means that you are to lie; while she thanked me in such an earnest and pathetic way for my sincerity that I was really touched, in spite of myself."

"Do you know what I think, M. Olivier? I really believe the poor child must have been very unkindly treated at home. She must have been told a hundred times that she was a monster of ugliness, and, finding herself for the first time in her life with some one she really felt that she could trust, she wanted to know the truth in regard to herself."

"You are probably right, Mlle. Herminie, and what touched me, as it did you, was to see with what grat.i.tude the poor girl welcomed the slightest sign of interest, provided it was sincere."

"Would you believe it, I have seen big tears well up in her eyes more than once this evening, M. Olivier?"

"I, too, somehow fancied that her gaiety concealed a habitual melancholy. She was trying to forget herself, perhaps."

"And then her trade, which unfortunately requires such an expenditure of time and labour, is so unremunerative, poor child! If the trials of poverty should be added to her other troubles--"

"I fear that is only too probable, Mlle. Herminie," said Olivier, feelingly. "She is, indeed, very much to be pitied!"

"Hush, here she comes," said Herminie. Then she added: "But she is putting on her wrap; they must be taking her away."

And in fact, Ernestine, behind whom Madame Laine was walking with an imposing air, came to the door, and made a slight movement of the head to Herminie as if to indicate that she was leaving with regret.

The d.u.c.h.ess hastened to her new friend. "What! you are going already?"

she asked.

"I must," answered Ernestine, with a meaning look at innocent Madame Laine.

"But you will come next Sunday, will you not? You know we shall have a thousand things to say to each other."

"I hope to come, my dear Herminie, I shall be so anxious to see you again."

Then with a gracious bow to the young hussar, Ernestine said:

"_Au revoir_, M. Olivier."

"_Au revoir_, mademoiselle," replied the young soldier, with a bow.

An hour afterwards Mlle. de Beaumesnil and Madame Laine were safe within the walls of the Hotel de la Rochaigue.

CHAPTER IV.

REASON a.s.sERTS ITSELF.

On her return from Madame Herbaut's little entertainment, mademoiselle opened her journal and wrote as follows: