"But I did not sigh only because I would so long be deprived of the happiness of leading my dear Caroline to the altar, but because I should thereby lose the pleasure of presenting her to the court as my wife on the occasion of the large and most magnificent court ball with which the season will be opened."
"A court ball is to take place?" asked Caroline Orguelin, with vivacity. "The king has, I believe, not yet returned from his journey."
"But will do so in a few days, and as the court mourning is now at an end, the king will give a brilliant masquerade ball, which will probably be the only one given this winter."
"A masquerade ball!" exclaimed his bride; "and I have never seen one!"
"And this is to be a most magnificent one. Moreover, the queen-mother has already promised me an invitation for my wife, and requested me to present her to the entire court on this occasion."
"And is it impossible to have the wedding any sooner?" asked Caroline, impatiently.
"Quite impossible," said M. Orguelin.
"And why impossible?" said the count. "Could we not have the wedding at an early day, and the festival later? Could we not, as is now customary in high circles, be married quietly, and have the festival at a later day? These noisy weddings are a little out of fashion at the present day, and it would be said at court that the wealthy and highly cultivated M. Orguelin showed his disregard for the customs of our young and modern court by adhering to those of the old regime."
"God forbid that I should do that!" exclaimed M. Orguelin, in a terrified voice.
"Father, I detest noisy merry-makings, and insist on a quiet marriage. It shall not be said at court that Mademoiselle Orguelin, with all her acquaintances, had rejoiced over the inestimable happiness of becoming the wife of a count. I will be married quietly; afterwards the count may give a fete in honor of our marriage, which you, my father, can return."