"
But no matter. Her house was always filled to over-flowing; and
at the very moment when the Marquis de Valorsay and M. Fortunat
were speaking of her, a dozen coroneted carriages stood before her
door, and her rooms were thronged with guests. It was a little
past midnight, and the bi-weekly card party had just been made up,
when a footman announced, "Monsieur le Vicomte de Coralth!
Monsieur Pascal Ferailleur!"
Few of the players deigned to raise their heads. But one man
growled, "Good--two more players!" And four or five young men
exclaimed, "Ah! here's Ferdinand! Good evening, my dear fellow!"
M. de Coralth was very young and remarkably good-looking, almost
too good-looking, indeed; for his handsomeness was somewhat
startling and unnatural. He had an exceedingly fair complexion,
and large, melting black eyes, while a woman might have envied him
his wavy brown hair and the exquisite delicacy of his skin. He
dressed with great care and taste, and even coquettishly; his
turn-down collar left his firm white throat uncovered, and his
rose-tinted gloves fitted as perfectly as the skin upon his soft,
delicate hands. He bowed familiarly on entering, and with a
rather complacent smile on his lips, he approached Madame
d'Argeles, who, half reclining in an easy chair near the fire-
place, was conversing with two elderly gentlemen of grave and
distinguished bearing. "How late you are, viscount," she remarked
carelessly.
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