Valentine was seated among a number of ladies of the court, whom she dominated by the power of her charms as the majestic oak dominates the slender saplings that surround it.
The young marchioness's toilet was noble in its simplicity; it was less ornate than those of her neighbors, and yet hers was the one that was observed and admired; for veritable beauty imparts a charm to everything that it wears.
Léodgard stopped in front of Valentine and fastened his eyes upon her; he made no attempt to conceal the admiration she aroused in him.
Valentine, on her side, had perceived Léodgard at once, and a faint smile played about her lips, while her eyes expressed the keenest satisfaction.
Léodgard stood on the same spot, gazing at Valentine longer than strict propriety permitted. But suddenly the marchioness's lovely eyes ceased to respond to his burning glances, and seemed, on the contrary, to do their utmost to avoid them.
He sought to discover the cause of the change and soon succeeded: as he turned his head, he saw the Marquis de Santoval standing within a few steps and watching what was taking place.
The Comte de Marvejols decided, albeit regretfully, to leave his position. He did not lose sight of Valentine, however; he waited, hoping and seeking constantly to approach her; but Monsieur de Santoval remained near his wife; when Léodgard thought that he had gone into another room, he suddenly reappeared like a ghost, like a threatening spectre; for his brow was dark, and his eyes emitted ominous flashes which seemed the precursors of a violent storm.
At last the marchioness left her seat, to walk through the salons on her husband's arm. Seizing a moment when they were surrounded by people, Léodgard approached Valentine and said in her ear:
"I am dying with love for you, madame!"
"It is very late!" murmured the young woman, with a glance of flame at him who had addressed her.