When the quadrille was over, Miaud led Laure back to her seat. I drew as near as I could to the bench on which the two Parisians sat, looking exquisite and beautiful in the midst of the most beautiful, most charming, and most aristocratic-looking young girls of our countryside.
I met Miaud near the centre of the space I had to cross to reach them.
"See what it is to wear breeches!" he said as he passed me, as though speaking to himself.
It may be guessed that this apostrophe did anything but soothe the feeling of dislike I had towards a man whom I already regarded in the light of a rival. But I knew what ridicule I should bring down on myself if I picked a quarrel with Miaud for such a cause, and I continued on my way.
"Here I am, Mademoiselle Laure," I said, when I stopped behind my Parisian.
"Ah! that is all right," she replied; "seeing you set off like that, I thought some accident must have happened to you!"
The conversation had taken a most embarrassing turn at the very beginning.
"Indeed, mademoiselle," I replied stammeringly, "I saw that—"
"That you had forgotten your gloves; I quite understood. You did not like to dance without gloves, and you were quite right."