She is a _Fille a la Cassette!_" Two partners in a cotillion were speaking in an undertone, behind a fan.
"And you think you know who it is ?" asked one.
"Know ?" replied the other.

"Do I know I have a head on my shoulders?
If that Dragoon is not our cousin Honore Grandissime--well--" "Honore in mask?
he is too sober-sided to do such a thing." "I tell you it is he! Listen.

Yesterday I heard Doctor Charlie Keene begging him to go, and telling him there were two ladies, strangers, newly arrived in the city, who would be there, and whom he wished him to meet.

Depend upon it the Dragoon is Honore, Lufki-Humma is Charlie Keene, and the Monk and the Huguenotte are those two ladies." But all this is an outside view; let us draw nearer and see what chance may discover to us behind those four masks.
An hour has passed by.

The dance goes on; hearts are beating, wit is flashing, eyes encounter eyes with the leveled lances of their beams, merriment and joy and sudden bright surprises thrill the breast, voices are throwing off disguise, and beauty's coy ear is bending with a venturesome docility; here love is baffled, there deceived, yonder takes prisoners and here surrenders.