"And if it had been Gilbert?" said he, as he put on his mask again.

"Ah! if it had been," cried she pa.s.sionately, "and he had said to me, 'Nicole, do you remember Taverney Maison-Rouge?' then there would have been no longer a Beausire in the world for me."

"But I have told you, my dear child, that Gilbert is dead."

"Ah! perhaps, then, it is for the best," said Oliva, with a sigh.

"Yes; he would never have loved you, beautiful as you are."

"Do you, then, think he despised me?"

"No; he rather feared you."

"That is possible."

"Then you think it better he is dead?"

"Do not repeat my words; in your mouth they wound me."

"But it is better for Mademoiselle Oliva. You observe, I abandon Nicole, and speak to Oliva. You have before you a future, happy, rich, and brilliant."

"Do you think so?"

"Yes, if you make up your mind to do anything to arrive at this end."

"I promise you."

"But you must give up sighing, as you were doing just now."

"Very well. I sighed for Gilbert, and as he is dead, and there are not two Gilberts in the world, I shall sigh no more. But enough of him."

"Yes; we will speak of yourself. Why did you run away with Beausire?"

"Because I wished to quit Trianon, and I was obliged to go with some one; I could no longer remain a 'pis aller,' rejected by Gilbert."

"You have, then, been faithful for ten years through pride? You have paid dearly for it."

Oliva laughed.

"Oh, I know what you are laughing at. To hear a man, who pretends to know everything, accuse you of having been ten years faithful, when you think you have not rendered yourself worthy of such a ridiculous reproach. However, I know all about you. I know that you went to Portugal with Beausire, where you remained two years; that you then left him, and went to the Indies with the captain of a frigate, who hid you in his cabin, and who left you at Chandernagor when he returned to Europe. I know that you had two millions of rupees to spend in the house of a nabob who kept you shut up; that you escaped through the window on the shoulders of a slave. Then, rich--for you had carried away two beautiful pearl bracelets, two diamonds, and three large rubies--you came back to France. When landing at Brest, your evil genius made you encounter Beausire on the quay, who recognized you immediately, bronzed and altered as you were, while you almost fainted at the sight of him."

"Oh, mon Dieu!" cried Oliva, "who are you, then, who know all this?"

"I know, further, that Beausire carried you off again, persuaded you that he loved you, sold your jewels, and reduced you to poverty. Still, you say you love him, and, as love is the root of all happiness, of course you ought to be happy."

Oliva hung her head, and covered her eyes with her hands, but two large tears might be seen forcing their way through her fingers--liquid pearls, more precious, though not so marketable, as those Beausire had sold.

"And this woman," at last she said, "whom you describe as so proud and so happy, you have bought to-day for fifty louis."

"I am aware it is too little, mademoiselle."

"No, sir; on the contrary, I am surprised that a woman like me should be worth so much."

"You are worth more than that, as I will show you; but just now I want all your attention."

"Then I will be silent."

"No; talk, on the contrary, of anything, it does not matter what, so that we seem occupied."

"You are very odd."

"Take hold of my arm, and let us walk."

They walked on among the various groups. In a minute or two, Oliva asked a question.

"Talk as much as you like, only do not ask questions at present," said her companion, "for I cannot answer now; only, as you speak, disguise your voice, hold your head up, and scratch your neck with your fan."

She obeyed.

In a minute, they pa.s.sed a highly perfumed group, in the center of which a very elegant-looking man was talking fast to three companions, who were listening respectfully.

"Who is that young man in that beautiful gray domino?" asked Oliva.

"M. le Comte d'Artois; but pray do not speak just now!" At this moment two other dominoes pa.s.sed them, and stood in a place near, which was rather free from people.

"Lean on this pillar, countess," said one of them in a low voice, but which was overheard by the blue domino, who started at its sound.

Then a yellow domino, pa.s.sing through the crowd, came up to the blue one, and said, "It is he."

"Very good," replied the other, and the yellow domino vanished.

"Now, then," said Oliva's companion, turning to her, "we will begin to enjoy ourselves a little."

"I hope so, for you have twice made me sad: first by taking away Beausire, and then by speaking of Gilbert."

"I will be both Gilbert and Beausire to you," said the unknown.

"Oh!" sighed Oliva.

"I do not ask you to love me, remember; I only ask you to accept the life I offer you--that is, the accomplishment of all your desires, provided occasionally you give way to mine. Just now I have one."

"What?"

"That black domino that you see there is a German of my acquaintance, who refused to come to the ball with me, saying he was not well; and now he is here, and a lady with him."

"Who is she?"

"I do not know. We will approach them; I will pretend that you are a German, and you must not speak, for fear of being found out. Now, pretend to point him out to me with the end of your fan."