"What are you talking about, pray?"
"I will tell you later. First of all, look at that man."
"That short young man? I certainly don't know him."
"Nor do I; but he bears a most appalling resemblance to a man who——"
Michel heard no more; the beautiful young woman had lowered her voice as she walked on.
Who could that man be who had just come in, and who already produced such a marked sensation? Michel looked at him and saw that he was retracing his steps as if he intended to go out; but he halted in front of him and said in a voice as soft as a woman's: "My friend, will you be kind enough to tell me which of all the ladies who are already here is Princess Agatha de Palmarosa?"
"I have no idea," replied Michel, impelled by an instinctive feeling of distrust and jealousy.
"Then you do not know her?" queried the stranger.
"No, signor," replied Michel, dryly.
The stranger entered the ball-room and plunged into the crowd, which was rapidly increasing. Michel looked after him and observed something peculiar in his carriage. Although he was dressed in the height of fashion, and with an elaborateness which bordered on bad taste, he seemed ill at ease in his clothes, like a man who had never before worn a black coat and close-fitting breeches. And yet there was in his manner a something haughty and distinguished which did not denote the petty bourgeois in his Sunday garb.