The heat was increasing, and amid the overcrowded rooms the quadrille unrolled the cadenced symmetry of its figures.
"Very smart--the countess!" La Faloise continued at the garden door.
"She's ten years younger than her daughter.

By the by, Foucarmont, you must decide on a point.

Vandeuvres once bet that she had no thighs." This affectation of cynicism bored the other gentlemen, and Foucarmont contented himself by saying: "Ask your cousin, dear boy.

Here he is." "Jove, it's a happy thought!" cried La Faloise.

"I bet ten louis she has thighs." Fauchery did indeed come up.