This sample of sacred music was the final number of the concert; after that, they began dancing, and Gerfaut invited Aline.  Whether because he wished to struggle against his ill-humor, or from kindness of heart because he understood her emotion, he began to talk with the young girl, who was still blushing at her success.  Among his talents, Octave possessed in a peculiar degree that of adapting his conversation to the age, position, and character of his companions.  Aline listened with unconcealed pleasure to her partner’s words; the elasticity of her step and a sort of general trembling made her seem like a flower swaying to the breeze, and revealed the pleasure which his conversation gave her.  Every time her eyes met Octave’s penetrating glance they fell, out of instinctive modesty.  Each word, however indifferent it might be, rang in her ears sweet and melodious; each contact with his hand seemed to her like a tender pressure.

Gerfaut experienced a feeling of melancholy as he noticed how this fresh, innocent rose brightened up at each word he uttered, and he thought: 

“She would love me as I want to be loved, with all her heart, mind, and soul.  She would kneel before my love as before an altar, while this coquette—­”

He glanced in the direction where Madame de Bergenheim was dancing with Marillac, and met her gaze fixed full upon him.  The glance which he received was rapid, displeased, and imperious.  It signified clearly:  “I forbid you to speak thus to your partner.”

Octave, at that moment; was not disposed to obedience.  After glancing over the quadrille, as if it were by mere chance that his eyes had met Clemence’s, he turned toward Aline and redoubled his amiability: 

A moment later, he received, not directly, but through the medium of the mirror—­that so often indiscreet confidant—­a second glance more sombre and threatening than before.

“Very good,” said he, to himself, as he led the young girl to her seat; “we are jealous.  That alters the situation.  I know now where the ramparts are the weakest and where to begin my attack.”

No other incident marked the day.  The guests left at nightfall, and the society was reduced to the usual members of the household.  Octave entered his room after supper, humming an Italian air, evidently in such good spirits that his friend was quite surprised.

“I give it up, I can not understand your conduct,” said the latter; “you have been as solemn as an owl all day, and now here you are as gay as a lark; have you had an understanding?”

“I am more vexed than ever.”

“And you enjoy being so?”

“Very much.”

“Ah! you are playing ‘who loses wins!’”

“Not exactly; but as my good sentiments lead to nothing, I hope to conduct myself in such a disagreeable way as to force this capricious creature to adore me.”

“The devil! that is clever.  Besides, it is a system as good as any other.  Women are such extraordinary creatures!”