“Martial,” said the Countess severely, “she is Madame de Soulanges. Her husband would blow your brains out—if, indeed, you have any——”
“Ha! ha!” laughed the coxcomb. “What! the Colonel can leave the man in peace who has robbed him of your love, and then would fight for his wife! What a subversion of principles!—I beg of you to allow me to dance with the little lady. You will then be able to judge how little love that heart of ice could feel for you; for, if the Colonel disapproves of my dancing with his wife after allowing me to——”
“But she loves her husband.”
“A still further obstacle that I shall have the pleasure of conquering.”
“But she is married.”
“A whimsical objection!”
“Ah!” said the Countess, with a bitter smile, “you punish us alike for our faults and our repentance!”
“Do not be angry!” exclaimed Martial eagerly. “Oh, forgive me, I beseech you. There, I will think no more of Madame de Soulanges.”
“You deserve that I should send you to her.”
“I am off then,” said the Baron, laughing, “and I shall return more devoted to you than ever. You will see that the prettiest woman in the world cannot capture the heart that is yours.”