departed, Louis handing her to her carriage. Francesca could not but admire her noble demeanour, her easy yet stately walk, and the finely turned head, placed so gracefully on her shoulders; certainly no one ever more completely looked her high descent.
"The comedy has gone off to perfection," exclaimed Madame de Mercœur. "I am glad she is allowed to return; she is no longer dangerous, and her exile has been sufficient punishment."
"Alas," replied Francesca, "I look upon the self-possession, the readiness of reply, the ease, I daily witness, with such hopelessness"
"All in good time," answered her friend, laughing; "you are quite young enough to blush a little longer. Wait till you have a motive for dissimulation. I am afraid it is intuitive with us all."
Truly, society is like a large piece of frozen water; there are the rough places to be shunned, the very slippery ones all ready for a fall, and the holes which seem made expressly to drown you. All that can be done is to glide lightly over them. Skaiting well is the great art of social life.
