After a long talk, in which she explained to her friend the way—a trifle romantic withal—in which she intended to make herself known to Léon, she succeeded in inducing her friend to help her carry out the scheme that pleased her fancy, and the pair separated, having arranged all the details agreed upon.
The season of the Opera Balls had opened, and Mme. de Gernancé invited Léon one night to accompany her to one. He declined at first, with a hot haste she had not anticipated; the scene of the adventure that was to have such an influence upon his life had become hateful to him, and he had sworn never to set foot there again. But Mme. de Gernancé insisted; she asked him only to lend her his arm until she could find a stranger who had promised to come, and whom she wanted to puzzle.
Léon, unable to refuse anything to Mme. de Roselis' friend, at last consented, though with inward repugnance, and they set off together.
His entrance into the ballroom was a painful moment for him; a tumult of memories surged up in his mind.
Mme. de Gernancé made a few turns round the hall with him, and then, pretending to have discovered the person she was seeking, she set him at liberty and said good-bye. Scarcely had she left his arm when a voice, in spite of the slight affectation of manner inseparable from a masked ball, made his every pulse leap, uttered close beside him the words:
"Ah ha, I have caught you, faithless one! It is not for me you are looking, this time, at the Opera ball!"
He turned and saw before him—Who was it? His unknown lady herself. The white domino, the mask, even the diamond buckle that fastened her belt which he had noticed on that other occasion,—all were there.
"It is she!" he exclaimed, seizing her arm and slipping it beneath his own. "Have I found you again? Is it you I am looking at, is it you I hold? By what inconceivable miracle—"
"Is it really so astonishing? You know my talent for miracles."
"It is true. It is the only thing I do know about you."