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At
this
moment
the
marquis
de
Croisenois
was
advancing
eagerly
towards
mademoiselle
de
la
Mole
.
He
was
for
a
moment
three
yards
away
from
her
.
He
was
unable
to
get
closer
because
of
the
crowd
.
He
smiled
at
the
obstacle
.
The
young
marquise
de
Rouvray
was
near
her
.
She
was
a
cousin
of
Mathilde
.
She
was
giving
her
arm
to
her
husband
who
had
only
married
her
a
fortnight
ago
.
The
marquis
de
Rouvray
,
who
was
also
very
young
,
had
all
the
love
which
seizes
a
man
who
,
having
contracted
a
marriage
of
convenience
exclusively
arranged
by
the
notaries
,
finds
a
person
who
is
ideally
pretty
.
M
.
de
Rouvray
would
be
a
duke
on
the
death
of
a
very
old
uncle
.
While
the
marquis
de
Croisenois
was
struggling
to
get
through
the
crowd
,
and
smiling
at
Mathilde
she
fixed
her
big
divinely
blue
eyes
on
him
and
his
neighbours
.
"
Could
anything
be
flatter
,
"
she
said
to
herself
.
"
There
is
Croisenois
who
wants
to
marry
me
,
he
is
gentle
and
polite
,
he
has
perfect
manners
like
M
.
de
Rouvray
.
If
they
did
not
bore
,
those
gentlemen
would
be
quite
charming
.
He
too
,
would
accompany
me
to
the
ball
with
that
smug
limited
expression
.
One
year
after
the
marriage
I
shall
have
my
carriage
,
my
horses
,
my
dresses
,
my
château
twenty
leagues
from
Paris
.
All
this
would
be
as
nice
as
possible
,
and
enough
to
make
a
Countess
de
Roiville
,
for
example
,
die
of
envy
and
afterwards
—
"
Mathilde
bored
herself
in
anticipation
.
The
marquis
de
Croisenois
managed
to
approach
her
and
spoke
to
her
,
but
she
was
dreaming
and
did
not
listen
to
him
.
The
noise
of
his
words
began
to
get
mixed
with
the
buzz
of
the
ball
.
Her
eye
mechanically
followed
Julien
who
had
gone
away
,
with
an
air
which
,
though
respectful
,
was
yet
proud
and
discontented
.
She
noticed
in
a
corner
far
from
the
moving
crowd
,
the
comte
Altamira
who
had
been
condemned
to
death
in
his
own
country
and
whom
the
reader
knows
already
.
One
of
his
relatives
had
married
a
Prince
de
Conti
in
the
reign
of
Louis
XIV
.
This
torical
fact
was
some
protection
against
the
police
of
the
congregation
.
"
I
think
being
condemned
to
death
is
the
only
real
distinction
,
"
said
Mathilde
.
"
It
is
the
only
thing
which
cannot
be
bought
.
"
"
Why
,
that
’
s
an
epigram
,
I
just
said
,
what
a
pity
it
did
not
come
at
a
moment
when
I
could
have
reaped
all
the
credit
for
it
.
"
Mathilde
had
too
much
taste
to
work
into
the
conversation
a
prepared
epigram
but
at
the
same
time
she
was
too
vain
not
to
be
extremely
pleased
with
herself
.
A
happy
expression
succeeded
the
palpable
boredom
of
her
face
.
The
marquis
de
Croisenois
,
who
had
never
left
off
talking
,
saw
a
chance
of
success
and
waxed
twice
as
eloquent
.
"
What
objection
could
a
caviller
find
with
my
epigram
,
"
said
Mathilde
to
herself
.
"
I
would
answer
my
critic
in
this
way
:
The
title
of
baron
or
vicomte
is
to
be
bought
;
a
cross
,
why
it
is
a
gift
.
My
brother
has
just
got
one
.
What
has
he
done
?
A
promotion
,
why
that
can
be
obtained
by
being
ten
years
in
a
garrison
or
have
the
minister
of
war
for
a
relative
,
and
you
’
ll
be
a
chief
of
a
squadron
like
Norbert
.
A
great
fortune
!
That
’
s
rather
more
difficult
,
and
consequently
more
meritorious
.
It
is
really
quite
funny
.
It
’
s
the
opposite
of
what
the
books
say
.
Well
,
to
win
a
fortune
why
you
marry
M
.
Rothschild
’
s
daughter
.
Really
my
epigram
is
quite
deep
.
Being
condemned
to
death
is
still
the
one
privilege
which
one
has
never
thought
of
canvassing
.
"
"
Do
you
know
the
comte
Altamira
,
"
she
said
to
M
.
de
Croisenois
.
Her
thoughts
seemed
to
have
been
so
far
away
,
and
this
question
had
so
little
connection
with
all
that
the
poor
marquis
had
been
saying
for
the
last
five
minutes
,
that
his
good
temper
was
ruffled
.
He
was
nevertheless
a
man
of
wit
and
celebrated
for
being
so
.
