He whose heart was free imagined with a thrill what such a woman's love would be; he who loved already conceived a vague regret, and dreamed of raptures hitherto unknown; he who bore a wound dealt by some woman's jealousy or faithlessness suddenly felt that he might easily recover.
Thus she advanced amid the homage of the men, enveloped by their gaze.
Arrived at the end of the gallery, she joined a group of ladies who were talking and fanning themselves excitedly under the fresco of Perseus turning Phineus to stone.

They were the Princess di Ferentino, Hortensa Massa d'Alba, the Marchesa Daddi-Tosinghi and Bianca Dolcebuono.
'Why so late ?' asked the latter.
'I hesitated very much whether to come at all--I don't feel well.' 'Yes, you look very pale.' 'I believe I am going to have neuralgia badly again, like last year.' 'Heaven forefend!' 'Elena, do look at Madame de la Boissiere,' exclaimed Giovanella Daddi in her queer husky voice; 'doesn't she look like a camel with a yellow wig!' 'Mademoiselle Vanloo is losing her head over your cousin,' said Hortensa Massa d'Alba to the Princess as Sophie Vanloo passed on Ludovico Barbarisi's arm.

'I heard her say just now when they passed me in the mazurka--_Ludovic, ne faites plus ca en dansant; je frissonne toute_--' The ladies laughed in chorus, fluttering their fans.

The first notes of a Hungarian waltz floated in from the next room.

The gentlemen came to claim their partners.