My new acquaintance passed her arm through mine and leaned on it as if we had known each other for years. I felt altogether reassured; I walked with my head erect, my face had recovered its serenity, and I was no longer afraid to look about me.
My partner left us as we entered the ballroom, and the lady on my arm asked me in an undertone:
"Do you know my name?"
"I know only that one by which she called you just now."
"I am Madame Dauberny, eight years married; I am twenty-seven years old, and my husband forty-four; he is wealthy and has no business. He doesn't care for society, balls, etc., but I go about without him. I was born at Bordeaux, and my parents were of the same province. I think that you are well enough posted now, in case anyone should talk to you about me."
"Yes, madame; thanks a thousand times!"
What I especially admired was the ease and fluency with which my companion said all this to me as we walked through the crowd; I am certain that no one who saw her talking to me would have suspected that she had never seen me until that evening. But Monsieur Guillardin and the bride came forward to meet my protectress, and I saw the stout Archibald too, walking behind his sister, and continuing to scrutinize me closely while he saluted Madame Dauberny.
"How late you are!" cried the bride, taking my companion's hand.
"We were in despair!" said the venerable proboscis; "it is half-past twelve, and we were just saying that Madame Dauberny would not come, although she had promised to."
"And here I am, you see. I never break my promises. Ah! that makes Monsieur Archibald laugh; however, it is quite true, monsieur."