In this young lady I recognized the Florentine who had disguised himself as a girl, and looked a very beautiful one.
Armelline thought she would not appear a dupe, and said she recognized him.
“You are making a mistake,” said he, calmly. “I have a brother who is very like me, just as you have a sister who is your living portrait. My brother had the pleasure of exchanging a few words with her at the Capronica.” The Florentine’s cleverness made the marchioness laugh, and I had to join in her mirth, though I felt little inclination to do so.
Armelline begged to be excused dancing, so the marchioness made her sit between the handsome Florentine and herself. The marquis took possession of Scholastica, and I had to be attentive to the marchioness without seeming to be aware of the existence of Armelline, to whom the Florentine was talking earnestly.
I felt as jealous as a tiger; and having to conceal my rage under an air of perfect satisfaction, the reader may imagine how well I enjoyed the ball.
However, there was more anxiety in store for me; for presently I noticed Scholastica leave the marquis, and go apart with a middle-aged man, with whom she conversed in an intimate manner.
The minuets over, the square dances began, and I thought I was dreaming when I saw Armelline and the Florentine taking their places.
I came up to congratulate them, and asked Armelline, gently, if she was sure of the steps.
“This gentleman says I have only to imitate him, and that I cannot possibly make any mistakes.”
I had nothing to say to this, so I went towards Scholastica, feeling very curious to know who was her companion.