But joy and enthusiasm lit up every face. The guests appeared very little to care whether the music was good or bad, provided it enabled them to dance, of which they acquitted themselves in a thoroughly joyous manner, bounding and gambolling in emulation of each other with every manifestation of pleasure.
In the midst of the crowd the general commanding and the governor were promenading, followed by a number of their staff, glittering with ornaments, and returning with a patronising air the salutes which were addressed to them.
Near them was M. Dubois, upright and formal, in his black coat in the French style, and his short breeches, forming the most singular contrast to those who surrounded him.
The painter could scarcely repress a burst of laughter on perceiving him, and tried to hide himself in the middle of the crowd; but it was labour lost: M. Dubois perceived him, and came right to him.
The painter was obliged to wait for him.
"My young friend," said M. Dubois, passing his arm under his arm, and drawing him towards the seat of a window, which was unoccupied at the moment, "I am happy to have the opportunity of meeting you; I have something important to say to you."
"Important!" said the artist, with a gesture of annoyance, "The devil take it."
"Yes," replied he, smiling; "you shall see."
"I am scarcely serious enough in my nature," pursued he; "I am an artist, you know—a painter, a passionate lover of art; and it is just to escape the exigencies of serious life that I have abandoned France to come to America."
"Then you have decidedly fallen," said M. Dubois with a dash of irony.