"If you pronounce her so, Madame, she can receive no higher praise," said
Henri.
"Say at once that you think me exasperating," laughed the lady.
"Was it not you that first called her Zibeline?" Henri inquired.
"Yes, but she calls herself Valentine—which rhymes, after all. Not richly enough for her, I know, but her means allow her to do without the supporting consonant. See how beautiful she is to-night!"
In fact, twenty-four hours had sufficed to change the lonely stranger of the day before into the heroine of this evening, and the satisfaction that shone in her face tempered the somewhat haughty and disdainful expression that had hitherto characterized her.
"You have not yet said 'good-evening' to Mademoiselle de Vermont, Henri," said the Duchess to her brother, and he changed his place in order to act upon her hint.
"Ah, is it you, General?" said Zibeline, affecting not to have seen him until that moment. "It seems that music interests you less than comedy."
"What has made you form that opinion, Mademoiselle?"
"The fact that you arrive much later at the opera than at the Comedie
Francaise."
"Have you, then, kept watch upon my movements?"