Devoured by anxiety she turned round immediately and leaning over with practised art, so as to display all the beauties of her throat and bosom, asked:
“What were you thinking of? I felt you were not listening to the music.”
Jean smiled and said frankly:
“I was thinking about two charming women.”
“That is one too many.”
With arrow-like glances she tried to pierce the impenetrable mask. M. de Lavernay was keeping his eyes on the pair, while mixing up all his classical knowledge in his conversation with Madame de Marthenay. Isabelle grew impatient and, eager to make sure of her happiness, rose from her seat.
“It is stifling here. Will you take me into the hall, Captain Berlier?”
With a stare she passed by her discomfited guardian and went out on Jean’s arm. In the promenade and on the steps of the big staircase she leant on his arm with all the weight of her languishing body. As he remained silent, waiting for her to speak, she asked him with a timidity which had come over her all unforeseen:
“Am I no longer beautiful, Jean? Tell me.”
“Look round you, Madame, and judge for yourself.”