"Did you not imply as much, dear madame?" asked the old chevalier slyly.
"I intimated that she might have had one—if—let us change the subject. I move that the poet read us his latest verses. I am dying for some amusement."
"Ladies and gentlemen," cried the old chevalier, clapping his hands together to attract the attention of all those in the room, "this brilliant young author and poet, who needs no introduction to you, has consented to read his latest production. Will you kindly take places?"
There was some polite applause. "The poem! let us hear the poem," buzzed upon all sides, and the throng began to settle down around the poet, the ladies occupying the chairs, and the gentlemen either leaning against the walls or seated upon stools by the side of those ladies in whose eyes they found particular favor.
In a few moments a hush of expectancy fell upon an audience delighted at the prospect of being entertained.
"This is a play in verse," began the poet, taking a roll of manuscript from his pocket.
"A play! how charming," said Mademoiselle de Bellœil.
"It is in three acts," continued the author. "Act first, in the prison of the Luxembourg, where the young people first meet and fall deeply in love."
A rustle of approval ran through his audience.
"Act second is in the prison yard where they are separated, she being set at liberty and he conducted to the guillotine."