That, my dear fellow, is the way in which those
sweet faces, in appearance so tender and so artless, would have formed
a coalition against the stranger, and that without a word beyond the
question, 'Tell me, dear, do you know that little woman in blue?'
--Look here, Martial, if you care to run the gauntlet of more
flattering glances and inviting questions than you will ever again
meet in the whole of your life, just try to get through the triple
rampart which defends that Queen of Dyle, or Lippe, or Charente. You
will see whether the dullest woman of them all will not be equal to
inventing some wile that would hinder the most determined man from
bringing the plaintive stranger to the light. Does it not strike you
that she looks like an elegy?"
"Do you think so, Montcornet? Then she must be a married woman?"
"Why not a widow?"
"She would be less passive," said the lawyer, laughing.
"She is perhaps the widow of a man who is gambling," replied the
handsome Colonel.
"To be sure; since the peace there are so many widows of that class!"
said Martial.
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