"They are already much faded, and yet I think they are beautiful still." He admired the bouquet; but, although Antoinette regarded him fixedly, she detected neither blush nor confusion on his face.

"It was not he," she said to herself.
There was a piano in the room where they had dined.

As Count Abel was taking leave, Mlle.

Moiseney begged him to give Mlle.

Moriaz proof of his talent.