Zerbine, who was watching him, was surprised at the strange inward beauty--if the expression may be allowed--that seemed to shine through the young baron's ordinarily sad countenance, and illuminate it.

"These nobles," she said to herself, "are certainly a race by themselves; they look as if they had sprung from the side of Jupiter, not been born into the world like ordinary mortals.

At the least word their pride is up in arms, and transforms them, as it does the Baron de Sigognae now.

If he should make love to me, with eyes like those, I simply could not resist him; I should have to throw over my marquis.

Why, he fairly glows with heroism; he is god-like." Meantime de Sigognac, in blissful ignorance of this ardent admiration, which would have been so distasteful to him, was saying to the marquis, "Such being your opinion of my family, you will not, I fancy, object to carry a challenge from me to the Duke of Vallombreuse." "Assuredly I will do it for you," answered the marquis, in a grave, measured way, widely different from his habitual good-natured, easy carelessness of manner and speech; "and, moreover, I offer my own services as your second.