He was a man of about thirty-five years, tall, and with a grave, sweet face, wonderfully handsome and regular. In his manner, as he sat facing Agatha at a distance, which indicated something betwixt respect and intimacy, there was nothing to criticise; but when Michel had recovered his presence of mind sufficiently to listen to the words that fell upon his ears, he fancied that he could detect an indication of mutual affection in this observation of the princess:
"Thank heaven it has not yet occurred to anyone to raise the curtain and discover this delightful retreat; although I might naturally take some pride in bringing my guests here,—for it is beautifully decorated to-night,—I would like to pass the night here all alone, or with you, marquis, while the fête and the dancing and the tumult run their course behind the curtain."
The marquis replied, in a tone which did not indicate a presumptuous man:
"You should have had the grotto closed altogether by a door to which you alone had a key, and have transformed it into a private salon, whither you could come from time to time to obtain some repose from the heat, the glare and the compliments. You are not accustomed to society now, and you were over-confident of your strength. You will be terribly tired to-morrow."
"I am already; but it was not the crowd and the noise that broke me down so in an instant."
"I understand that, my dear friend," said the marquis, pressing Agatha's hand fraternally in his. "Try to think of something else, at least for a few hours, so that your preoccupation may not be manifest; for you cannot escape people's eyes, and, outside of this grotto, you have not left yourself a single corner of your whole palace where you can take refuge without running the gauntlet of obsequious salutations, inquisitive glances—"
"And trite remarks with which I am already sated," added the princess, struggling to smile. "How can anyone be fond of society, marquis? Can you understand it?"
"I can understand it in the case of people who are satisfied with themselves, and who think that it is always an advantage to exhibit themselves."
"To my mind, the ball is delightful thus, at a distance, when we cannot see it or be seen. There is something piquant—almost poetic—in the buzzing, this distant music that we hear, and in the idea that people are being amused or bored outside, and that we are not compelled to take any part in it."
"But it is reported to-day that you are about to become reconciled to society, and that this magnificent fête, which you are giving for love of good works, will incline you to give or to see others. In short, they say that you are going to change all your habits and reappear in the world, like a star too long eclipsed."