Isabelle, who had instantly recognised the audacious gallant of the garden, and who was displeased by the imperious ardour of his gaze, redoubled her reserve of manner, and did not lift her eyes to the mirror in front of her at all; she did not even seem to be aware that one of the handsomest young noblemen in all France was standing there before her, trying to win a glance from her lovely eyes--but then, she was a singular girl, this sweet Isabelle! At length, exasperated by her utter indifference, Vallombreuse suddenly took the initiative, and said to her, "Mademoiselle, you take the part of Sylvia in this new play, do you not ?" "Yes, sir," Isabelle answered curtly, without looking at him--not able to evade this direct question.
"Then never will a part have been so admirably played," continued the duke.

"If it is poor your acting will make it excellent, if it is fine you will make it peerless.

Ah! happy indeed the poet whose verses are intrusted to those lovely lips of yours." These vague compliments were only such as admiring gallants were in the habit of lavishing upon pretty actresses, and Isabelle could not with any show of reason resent it openly, but she acknowledged it only by a very slight bend of the head, and still without looking up.

At this moment de Sigognac entered the green-room; he was masked and in full costume, just buckling around his waist the belt of the big sword he had inherited from Matamore, with the cobweb dangling from the scabbard.

He also marched straight up to Isabelle, and was received with a radiant smile.
"You are capitally gotten up," she said to him in a low, tone, so low that he had to bend down nearer her to hear, "and I am sure that no fierce Spanish captain ever had a more superbly arrogant air than you." The Duke of Vallombreuse drew himself up to his full height, and looked this unwelcome new-comer over from head to foot, with an air of the coolest, most haughty disdain.