For myself, I confess they usually possessed but small significance--men being of a denser (though perhaps deeper) comprehension than women, who catch on the wing a thought that flies past such as myself, and is lost.
I could only conclude that Isabella was seeking the happiness of her new-found friend in thus offering Giraud an opportunity, which he doubtless seized with avidity.
Isabella was kind enough to repeat her invitation, which, however, I declined with Madame's eye upon me and Lucille's back suddenly turned in my direction.

Lucille, in truth, was talking to Alphonse, and gaily enough.

He had the power of amusing her, in which I was deficient, and she was always merry.
While we were thus engaged, a second visitor was announced, but I did not hear his name.

His face was unknown to me--a narrow, foxy face it was--and the man's perfect self-assurance had something offensive in it, as all shams have.

I did not care for his manner towards Isabella--which is, however, as I understand, quite _a la mode d'aujourd'hui_--a sort of careless, patronising admiration, with no touch of respect in it.
He made it quite apparent that he had come to see the young mistress of the house, and no one else, acknowledging the introductions to the remainder of the company with a scant courtesy.