"Why so?"
"Because it has preserved them from the tricks you would have played on them.—But I propose to try to find the fair Santoval, and, if possible, I will dance with her."
"Go! go singe yourself at the candle, my handsome moth!" said the little old man, mingling with the crowd; "I fancy that more than one of you will scorch his wings; but I shall not be one!"
Léodgard had turned his back on Valentine, still fascinated by her glance, by her beauty which had disturbed his senses, by her charming and noble carriage, by the grace with which she wore her splendid costume, and, lastly, by the change which the title of wife had wrought in her manner and in her whole aspect.
He could not convince himself that that intoxicating beauty was really the maiden whose hand he had refused. But he remembered that in those days he had hardly glanced at her, and that she, on her side, had barely raised her eyes to his face; and he said to himself:
"What a difference! What a glance she flashed at me just now! There was in her eyes a sort of ironical expression which seemed to jeer at me for having failed to appreciate her—a sort of challenge to me to refuse to do homage to her charms!—Ah! I long to see her again! to gaze upon her charms a long while, a very long while! to taste that happiness which I once spurned! Will she look at me again as she did just now?"
Léodgard succeeded without difficulty in finding Valentine. The young marchioness, alleging the heat as a pretext, had refused all invitations to dance; she had seated herself on one of the raised benches in the gallery, which were so arranged that the ladies who sat there could enjoy the sight of the ball without moving.
When he discovered Valentine, the Comte de Marvejols leaned against a pillar within fifteen feet of her, because from that place, thanks to her elevated position, he could gaze at her at his ease. The Marquis de Santoval, being at the foot of the benches, and surrounded by people, could not see Léodgard.
The latter had been in his chosen place but a few moments when he became certain that Valentine had seen him, that she knew that he was there for the sole purpose of admiring her and watching her movements. Thereafter he saw nobody in the whole assemblage but that woman, a single glance from whose eyes had sufficed to set his heart on fire. All the passing, all the going and coming about him were powerless to divert his attention; his eyes did not wander from the Marquise de Santoval.
"Vive Dieu! my dear count, you are terribly preoccupied, this is the second time that I have spoken to you without obtaining a reply!"