concerned, I much prefer that which these dark woods present, in whose depths can be seen, now in one direction and again in another, a light passing by, as though it were an eye, bright red in color, sometimes open as others closed."
"La Valliere is quite a poet," said Tonnay-Charente.
"In other words," said Montalais, "she is insupportable. Whenever there is a question of laughing a little, or of amusing ourselves with anything. La Valliere begins to cry; whenever we girls have reason to cry, because, perhaps, we have mislaid our dresses, or because our vanity has been wounded, or our costume fails to produce any effect. La Valliere laughs."
"As far as I am concerned, that is not my character," said Mlle. de Tonnay-Charente. "I am a woman; there are few like me; whoever loves me, flatters me; whoever flatters me, pleases me; and whoever pleases "
"Well," said Montalais, "you do not finish."
"It is too difficult," replied Mlle. de Tonnay-Charente, laughing loudly. "Do you, who are so clever, finish for me."
"And you, Louise?" said Montalais, "does anyone please you?"
"That is a matter which concerns no one but myself," replied the young girl, rising from the mossy bank on which she had been reclining during the whole time the ballet had lasted. "Now, mesdemoiselles, we have agreed to amuse ourselves to-night without any one to overlook us, and without any escort. We are three in number, we like one another, and the night is lovely; look yonder, do you not see the moon slowly rising, silvering the topmost branches of the chestnuts and the oaks? Oh! beautiful walk! dear liberty! the beautiful, soft turf of the woods, the happiness which your friendship confers upon me! Let us walk arm in arm toward those large trees. Out yonder all are at this moment seated at table and fully occupied, or preparing to adorn themselves for a set and formal promenade; horses are being saddled, or harnessed to the carriages — the queen's mules or madame's four white ponies. As for ourselves, we shall soon reach some retired spot where no eye can see us and no step follow ours. Do you not remember, Montalais, the woods of Chaverney and of Chambord, the numberless poplars of Blois, where we exchanged some of our mutual hopes?"
"And many confidences also?"
"Yes."
