"That name makes you sigh, chevalier," said La Valteline; "can it be that you too are one of the adorers of that lady, who sows confusion in all hearts?"
"I! oh! not at all; but I remembered that the Marquise de Santoval is no other than Mademoiselle Valentine de Mongarcin—that is all."
"Vertuchoux! monsieur," said the little old man, saluting Passedix in his turn, "you have chosen an exceedingly dashing costume for the ball, and one which, as you must have noticed, produces a great effect here."
"My costume is graceful and distinguished, is it not? I have always had a weakness for apple-green; it is very becoming to me!"
"Yes, you wear it in a way that is peculiar to yourself."
"You have the general aspect of a shrub," said Montrevert.
"So much the better, sandioux! I am a rosebush; the ladies will be the roses."
"You represent hope also!" said Monsieur de Noirteuil.
"As you say, I am the chevalier of hope."
"One might also take him for a lettuce!" said the little hunchback, in an undertone.