I looked anxiously down the spacious room without seeing Madame de Ferrier.  The simplicity, which made for beauty of houses in France, struck me, in the white and gold paneling, and the chimney, which lifted its mass of design to the ceiling.  I must have been staring at this and thinking of Madame de Ferrier when my name was called in a lilting and excited fashion: 

“Lazarre!”

There was Mademoiselle de Chaumont in the midst of gallants, and better prepared to dance a gavotte than any other charmer in the room.  For her gauze dress, fastened on the shoulders so that it fell not quite off her bosom, reached only to the middle of the calf.  This may have been for the protection of rosebuds with which ribbons drawn lengthwise through the skirt, were fringed; but it also showed her child-like feet and ankles, and made her appear tiptoe like a fairy, and more remarkable than any other figure except the barefooted dame.  She held a crook massed with ribbons and rosebuds in her hand, rallying the men to her standard by the lively chatter which they like better than wisdom.

Mademoiselle Annabel gave me her hand to kiss, and made room for the Marquis du Plessy and me in her circle.  I felt abashed by the looks these courtiers gave me, but the marquis put them readily in the background, and delighted in the poppet, taking her quite to himself.

“We hear such wonderful stories about you, Lazarre!  Besides, Doctor Chantry came to see us and told us all he knew.  Remember, Lazarre belonged to us before you discovered him, monsieur the Marquis du Plessy!  He and I are Americans!”

Some women near us commented, as seemed to be the fashion in that society, with a frankness which Indians would have restrained.

“See that girl!  The emperor may now imagine what his brother Jerome has done!  Her father has brought her over from America to marry her, and it will need all his money to accomplish that!”

Annabel shook the rain of misty hair at the sides of her rose pink face, and laughed a joyful retort.

“No wonder poor Prince Jerome had to go to America for a wife!  Did you ever see such hairy faced frights as these Parisians of the Empire!  Lazarre fell ill looking at them.  He pretends he doesn’t see women, monsieur, and goes about with his coat skirts loaded with books.  I used to be almost as much afraid of him as I am of you!”

“Ah, mademoiselle, I dread to enter paradise.”

“Why, monsieur?”

“The angels are afraid of me!”

“Not when you smile.”

“Teach me that adorable smile of yours!”

“Oh, how improving you will be to Lazarre, monsieur!  He never paid me a compliment in his life.  He never said anything but the truth.”

“The lucky dog!  What pretty things he had to say!”

Annabel laughed and shook her mist in great enjoyment.  I liked to watch her, yet I wondered where Madame de Ferrier was, and could not bring myself to inquire.