Her lips smiled in all the freshness and innocence of merry youth, displaying now and then two rows of teeth, matchless in their beauty and regularity.

“Can that be,” said Daniel to himself, “the wretched creature whose portrait Maxime has just given me?”

A little behind her, and half-hid in the shade of the box, appeared a large bony head, adorned with an absurd bunch of feathers.  Her eyes flashed indignation; and her narrow lips seemed to say perpetually, “Shocking!” That was Mrs. Brian.

Still farther back, barely discernible after long examination, arose a tall, stiff figure, a bald, shining head, two dark, deep-sunk eyes, a hooked nose, and a pair of immense streaming whiskers.  That was the Hon. Thomas Elgin, commonly known as Sir Thorn.

As Daniel was persistently examining the box, with the smiling girl, the stern old woman, and the placid old man in the background, he felt doubts of all kinds creeping into his mind.

Might not Maxime be mistaken?  Did he not merely repeat the atrocious slanders of the envious world?

These thoughts troubled Daniel; and he would have mentioned his doubts to Maxime; but his neighbors were enthusiasts about music, and, as soon as he bent over to whisper into his friend’s ear, they growled, and, if he ventured to utter a word, they forced him to be silent.  At last the curtain fell.  Many left the house; others simply rose to look around; but Maxime and Daniel remained in their seats.  Their whole attention was concentrated upon Miss Brandon’s box, when they saw the door open, and a gentleman enter, who, at the distance at which they sat, looked like a very young man.  His complexion was brilliantly fair, his beard jet black, and his curly hair most carefully arranged.  He had his opera-hat under his arm, a camellia in his button-hole; and his light-yellow kid gloves were so tight, that it looked as if they must inevitably burst the instant he used his hands.

“Count Ville-Handry!” said Daniel to himself.

Somebody touched his shoulder slightly; and, as he turned round, he found it was Maxime, who said with friendly irony,—­

“Your old friend, is it not?  The happy lover of Miss Brandon?”

“Yes, it is so.  I have to confess it.”

He was just in the act of explaining the reasons for his silence, when M. de Brevan interrupted him, saying,—­

“Just look, Daniel; just look!”

The count had taken a seat in the front part of the box, by Miss Brandon’s side, and was talking to her with studied affectation, bending over her, gesticulating violently, and laughing till he showed every one of the long yellow teeth which were left him.  He was evidently on exhibition, and desired to be seen by everybody.  Suddenly, however, after Miss Brandon had said a few words to him, he rose, and went out.

The bell behind the scenes was ringing, and the curtain was about to rise again.