Indeed, a glance at the young lady in question could almost explain the sentiment just avowed by Pérégrin: she was beautiful, yes, but with a certain glacial quality that even her rumoured Forodois descent could not justify. Admittedly her face was very fair, and her hair had been compared by Malbet to a river of gold befitting the rivers of gold possessed by her father; but a trifle harsh she seemed, as uncoquettish as stainless steal, a daughter certainly of baronesses, and, one hoped, although the domestic life of Sacqueville-Danglars was unpropitious, of bankers. She was fair, fair and cold, like a sparsely attended soirée of pale spring before the onslaught of the fashionable season.
As for her accomplishments, if any fault could be found with them, it was that, like her physiognomy, they belonged a bit to the other sex. Indeed, she spoke two or three languages, drew with facility, was an avid fencer, and showed extraordinary aptitude in the equestrian arts. In her spare time, she wrote verses and composed music, being particularly impassioned of this last art, which she studied with a young lady named Célesbienne d'Affadondilly, without fortune, but with every possible disposition to become an excellent singer.
At intermission, Réginard and Château-Renard left their loge. Mme. de Sacqueville-Danglars made ready to present Réginard to her daughter, but the latter shook her head – quite rightly, as it happened, for he and the fox made their way to the loge of the Countess G. After she and the two friends had cordially greeted each other, Château-Renard mentioned that he had seen the Countess at the races.
