"How so?"
"Why, the father has bolted, and the daughter is preparing a dance. Each has a different way of using their feet."
"Very pretty, Monsieur Desvarennes, but I advise you to keep your flashes of wit to yourself," said Marechal, seriously. "That may not suit everybody."
"Oh, Marechal, you, too, making a fuss!"
And turning on his heel, he went to the refreshment table.
Prince and Princess Panine were just coming in. Micheline was smiling, and Serge was pale, though calm. Cayrol and Jeanne came toward them. Everybody turned to look at them. Jeanne, without embarrassment, shook hands with her friend. Cayrol bowed respectfully to Micheline.
"Princess," he said, "will you honor me by taking my arm? You are just in time, they are going to begin dancing."
"Not myself, though, thank you," replied Micheline, with a sad smile, "I am still very weak, but I will look on."
And on Cayrol's arm she entered the large drawing-room. Serge followed with Jeanne.
The festivities were at their height. The orchestra was playing a waltz, and in a whirl of silk and gauze the young people seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.