The good lady，infatuated like many another mother with her daughter，never noticed the officer's lack of enthusiasm；but gave herself infinite pains to call his attention in a whisper to the matchless grace with which Fleur-de-Lys used her needle or unwound her silk thread.
'Look，little cousin，'said she，pulling him by the sleeve and speaking into his ear，'look at her now—now，as she bends.'
'Quite so，'replied the young man；and he fell back into his former icy and abstracted silence.
The next moment he had to lean down again to Madame Al e.'Have you ever，'said she，'seen a blither and more engaging creature than your intended？She is all lily-white and golden.Those hands，how perfect and accomplished！and that neck，has it not all the ravishing curves of a swan's？How I envy you at times！and how fortunate you are in being a man，naughty rake that you are！Is not my Fleur-de-Lys beautiful to adoration，and you head over ears in love with her？'
'Assuredly，'he replied，thinking of something else.
'Speak to her，then，'said Madame Al e，pushing him by the shoulder.'Go and say something to her；you have grown strangely timid.'
We can assure our readers that timidity was no virtue or fault of the captain.He made an effort，however，to do as he was bid.
'Fair cousin，'said he，approaching Fleur-de-Lys，'what is the subject of this piece of tapestry you are working at？'
'Fair cousin，'answered Fleur-de-Lys somewhat pettishly，'I have already informed you three times.It is the grotto of Neptune.'
It was evident that Fleur-de-Lys saw more plainly than her mother through the cold and absent manner of the captain.He felt the necessity of pursuing the conversation further.
'And who is to benefit by all this fine Neptunery？'he asked.
'It is for the Abbey of Saint-Antoine-des-Champs，'answered Fleur-de-Lys，without raising her eyes.
The captain picked up a corner of the tapestry.'And pray，fair cousin，who may be this big，puffy-cheeked gendarme blowing a trumpet？'
'That is Triton，'she replied.
There was still a touch of resentment in the tone of these brief answers，and the young man understood perfectly that it behooved him to whisper in her ear some pretty nothing，some stereotyped gallantry—no matter what.He bent over her accordingly，but his imagination could furnish nothing more tender or personal than：'Why does your mother always wear a gown emblazoned with her heraldic device，as our grandmothers did in the time of Charles VII？Prithee，fair cousin，tell her that is no longer the fashion of the day，and that these hinges and laurel-trees embroidered on her gown make her appear like a walking mantel-piece.Nobody sits on their banner like that nowadays，I do assure you！'
Fleur-de-Lys raised her fine eyes to him reproachfully.'And is that all you have to assure me of？'she asked in low tones.
Meanwhile the good Dame Al e，overjoyed to see them thus leaning together and whispering，exclaimed as she trifled with the clasps of her book of hours：'Touching scene of love！'
The captain，more and more embarrassed，returned helplessly to the subject of the tapestry.'I'faith，a charming piece of work！'he exclaimed.
At this juncture Colombe de Gaillefontaine，another pink-and-white，golden-haired beauty，dressed in pale blue damask，ventured a shy remark to Fleur-de-Lys，hoping however that the handsome soldier would answer her.
'Dear Gondelaurier，have you seen the tapestries at the Htel de la Roche-Guyon？'
'Is not that where there is a garden belonging to the Linenkeeper of the Louvre？'asked Diane de Christeuil with a laugh；for having beautiful teeth she laughed on all occasions.
'And where there is a great ancient tower，part of the old wall of Paris？'added Amelotte de Montmichel，a charming，curly-haired，who had a trick of sighing，just as Diane laughed，without any valid reason.
'My dear Colombe，'said Dame Al e，'do you mean the Htel which belonged to M.de Bacqueville in the reign of King Charles VI？There are，in effect，some superb high-warp tapestries there.'
'Charles VI—King Charles VI！'muttered the young officer，twirling his mustache.'Heavens！how far back does the old lady's memory reach？'
'Superb tapestries！'repeated Mme.de Gondelaurier.'So much so，indeed，that they are accounted absolutely unique.'
At this moment Berangère de Champchevrier，a slip of a little girl of seven，who had been looking down into the Place through the carved trefoils of the balcony，cried out：'Oh，godmother Fleur-de-Lys，do look at this pretty girl dancing and playing the tambourine in the street in the middle of that ring of people！'
The penetrating rattle of a tambourine rose up to them from the square.
'Some gipsy of Bohemia，'said Fleur-de-Lys，turning her head carelessly towards the square.
'Let us look—let us look！'cried her companions，eagerly running to the balustrade，while she followed more slowly，musing on the coldness of her betrothed.The latter，thankful for this incident，which cut short an embarrassing conversation，returned to the other end of the apartment with the well-contented air of a soldier relieved from duty.
