"Well, I will have pity on you! or, rather, I will reserve you for a better opportunity," replied the domino. "You speak of fresh beauties! well, we were talking just now of the female who is most in fashion this winter—a handsome foreigner, the Princess de Hansfeld."
"By her name," said M. de Brévannes, "it is easy to guess that she is a German; fair, and full of conceits as a melody of Schubert, I am sure."
"You mistake," said the domino; "she is dark and wild as Othello's jealousy, to follow out your musical and high-flown comparison."
"Is there also a Prince de Hansfeld?" inquired M. de Brévannes.
"Most certainly."
"And to what school does this darling prince belong? the German or Italian school, or to the school of—husbands?"
"You ask a question which no one can answer."
"What! is this lovely princess wedded to a prince in partibus?"
"Certainly not," said M. de Fierval; "the prince is here, but no one has yet seen him, he never goes into the world. He is talked of as a whimsical, eccentric being, and some very extraordinary tales are told of him."
"It is said that he is quite an idiot," said one of the party.