"
"_Monseigneur, que d'honneur!_" Flora said, curling her haughty lip.
"It is true," Guy went on. "At a children's ball, about fifteen years
ago, I met my fate. She was in white muslin, with a velvet bodice (Flora
shuddered visibly); for a year after I pictured to myself the angels in
no other attire, and now--years vitiate one's tastes so--I can fancy
nothing but a jockey in 'black body and white sleeves.' I suppose she
was very pretty; let us hope so; it is my only excuse for being
enchanted in ten minutes, and stupidly enslaved in half an hour. The
thing would not have been complete without a rival; he came--a plump,
circular-faced boy, with severely flaxen hair. No, you need not look
across the room--not the least like what she is now! Great jealousy may
make me unjust, but I don't think he had any advantage over me save one,
and he used that mercilessly. He wore collars boldly erect under his fat
checks, while those of the rest of us lay prostrate, after the simple
fashion of my childhood. The _prestige_ was too much for Ellen's weak
mind. (Did I tell you her name was Ellen?) Bottom monopolized Titania
for the rest of the evening. I could have beaten him with ease and
satisfaction to myself, but I refrained; and, rushing into the
supper-room, drained three glasses of weak negus with the energy of
despair.
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