“From whom?”
“Oh! you shall know later.”
The husband and wife exchanged glances; but I felt sure that they did not guess my purpose, and I continued at once:
“What is going on to-day? I feel strongly inclined to amuse myself.”
“Why, we might go to the ball,” said Ernest; “to-day is the last Saint-Mandé ball, and they say that it will be very fine.”
“I haven’t been to one of them since I have been living here; I should not be sorry to see it. We will go. Do you agree?”
“Oh! I don’t go to balls,” said Marguerite; “I don’t care for them; I prefer to stay with the children. You two may go. But don’t speak to any women; for there are women at all these balls in the suburbs of Paris.”
We promised to be good; and immediately after dinner Ernest and I started for the place where the local balls were held. As the weather was superb, there were in addition to the people from Saint-Mandé and from Vincennes, many Parisians, who desired to enjoy one more rural festivity. Numerous carriages were standing on the outskirts of the crowd.
“The deuce! this will be magnificent!” said Ernest. “I’ll bet that we shall find more than one actress here; the princesses of the wings delight in open air balls.”
“You know that you promised your wife to be good.”