by her daughter, entered, escorted by Lucien Debray, who assiduously conducted them to their seats.
“Ha, ha,” said Château-Renaud, “here come some friends of yours, viscount! What are you looking at there? don’t you see they are trying to catch your eye?”
Albert turned round, just in time to receive a gracious wave of the fan from the baroness; as for Mademoiselle Eugénie, she scarcely vouchsafed to waste the glances of her large black eyes even upon the business of the stage.
“I tell you what, my dear fellow,” said Château-Renaud, “I cannot imagine what objection you can possibly have to Mademoiselle Danglars—that is, setting aside her want of ancestry and somewhat inferior rank, which by the way I don’t think you care very much about. Now, barring all that, I mean to say she is a deuced fine girl!”
“Handsome, certainly,” replied Albert, “but not to my taste, which I confess, inclines to something softer, gentler, and more feminine.”
“Ah, well,” exclaimed Château-Renaud, who because he had seen his thirtieth summer fancied himself duly warranted in assuming a sort of paternal air with his more youthful friend, “you young people are never satisfied; why, what would you have more? your parents have chosen you a bride built on the model of Diana, the huntress, and yet you are not content.”
“No, for that very resemblance affrights me; I should have liked something more in the manner of the Venus of Milo or Capua;