have seemed so. An aquiline nose contrasted curiously with the

narrowness of her forehead; for it is rare that that form of nose does
not carry with it a fine brow. In spite of her thick red lips, a sign

of great kindliness, the forehead revealed too great a lack of ideas
to allow of the heart being guided by intellect; she was evidently

benevolent without grace. How severely we reproach Virtue for its
defects, and how full of indulgence we all are for the pleasanter

qualities of Vice!
Chestnut hair of extraordinary length gave to Rose Cormon's face a

beauty which results from vigor and abundance,--the physical qualities
most apparent in her person. In the days of her chief pretensions,

Rose affected to hold her head at the three-quarter angle, in order to
exhibit a very pretty ear, which detached itself from the blue-veined

whiteness of her throat and temples, set off, as it was, by her wealth
of hair. Seen thus in a ball-dress, she might have seemed handsome.

Her protuberant outlines and her vigorous health did, in fact, draw
from the officers of the Empire the approving exclamation,--

"What a fine slip of a girl!"
But, as years rolled on, this plumpness, encouraged by a tranquil,

wholesome life, had insensibly so ill spread itself over the whole of
Mademoiselle Cormon's body that her primitive proportions were

destroyed. At the present moment, no corset could restore a pair of
hips to the poor lady, who seemed to have been cast in a single mould.

The youthfulharmony of her bosom existed no longer; and its excessive
amplitude made the spectator fear that if she stooped its heavy masses

might topple her over. But nature had provided against this by giving
her a natural counterpoise, which rendered needless the deceitful

adjunct of a bustle; in Rose Cormon everything was genuine. Her chin,
as it doubled, reduced the length of her neck, and hindered the easy

carriage of her head. Rose had no wrinkles, but she had folds of
flesh; and jesters declared that to save chafing she powdered her skin

as they do an infant's.
This ample person offered to a young man full of ardent desires like

Athanase an attraction to which he had succumbed. Young imaginations,
essentially eager and courageous, like to rove upon these fine living

sheets of flesh. Rose was like a plump partridge attracting the knife
of a gourmet. Many an elegant deep in debt would very willingly have

resigned himself to make the happiness of Mademoiselle Cormon. But,
alas! the poor girl was now forty years old. At this period, after

vainly seeking to put into her life those interests which make the
Woman, and finding herself forced to be still unmarried, she fortified

her virtue by stern religious practices. She had recourse to religion,
the great consoler of oppressed virginity. A confessor had, for the

last three years, directed Mademoiselle Cormon rather stupidly in the
path of maceration; he advised the use of scourging, which, if modern

medical science is to be believed, produces an effect quite the
contrary to that expected by the worthypriest, whose hygienic

knowledge was not extensive.
These absurd practices were beginning to shed a monastic tint over the

face of Rose Cormon, who now saw with something like despair her white
skin assuming the yellow tones which proclaimmaturity. A slight down

on her upper lip, about the corners, began to spread and darken like a
trail of smoke; her temples grew shiny; decadence was beginning! It

was authentic in Alencon that Mademoiselle Cormon suffered from rush
of blood to the head. She confided her ills to the Chevalier de

Valois, enumerating her foot-baths, and consulting him as to
refrigerants. On such occasions the shrewd old gentleman would pull

out his snuff-box, gaze at the Princess Goritza, and say, by way of
conclusion:--

"The right composing draught, my dear lady, is a good and kind
husband."

"But whom can one trust?" she replied.
The chevalier would then brush away the snuff which had settled in the

folds of his waistcoat or his paduasoy breeches. To the world at large
this gesture would have seemed very natural; but it always gave

extreme uneasiness to the poor woman.
The violence of this hope without an object was so great that Rose was

afraid to look a man in the face lest he should perceive in her eyes
the feelings that filled her soul. By a wilfulness, which was perhaps

only the continuation of her earlier methods, though she felt herself
attracted toward the men who might still suit her, she was so afraid

of being accused of folly that she treated them ungraciously. Most
persons in her society, being incapable of appreciating her motives,

which were always noble, explained her manner towards her co-celibates
as the revenge of a refusal received or expected. When the year 1815

began, Rose had reached that fatal age which she dared not avow. She
was forty-two years old. Her desire for marriage then acquired an

intensity which bordered on monomania, for she saw plainly that all
chance of progeny was about to escape her; and the thing which in her

celestial ignorance she desired above all things was the possession of
children. Not a person in all Alencon ever attributed to this virtuous

woman a single desire for amorous license. She loved, as it were, in
bulk without the slightest imagination of love. Rose was a Catholic

Agnes, incapable of inventing even one of the wiles of Moliere's
Agnes.

For some months past she had counted on chance. The disbandment of the
Imperial troops and the reorganization of the Royal army caused a

change in the destination of many officers, who returned, some on
half-pay, others with or without a pension, to their native towns,--

all having a desire to counteract their luckless fate, and to end
their life in a way which might to Rose Cormon be a happy beginning of

hers. It would surely be strange if, among those who returned to
Alencon or its neighborhood, no brave, honorable, and, above all,

sound and healthy officer of suitable age could be found, whose
character would be a passport among Bonaparte opinions; or some ci-

devant noble who, to regain his lost position, would join the ranks of
the royalists. This hope kept Mademoiselle Cormon in heart during the

early months of that year. But, alas! all the soldiers who thus
returned were either too old or too young; too aggressively

Bonapartist, or too dissipated; in short, their several situations
were out of keeping with the rank, fortune, and morals of Mademoiselle

Cormon, who now grew daily more and more desperate. The poor woman in
vain prayed to God to send her a husband with whom she could be

piously happy: it was doubtless written above that she should die both
virgin and martyr; no man suitable for a husband presented himself.

The conversations in her salon every evening kept her informed of the
arrival of all strangers in Alencon, and of the facts of their

fortunes, rank, and habits. But Alencon is not a town which attracts
visitors; it is not on the road to any capital; even sailors,

travelling from Brest to Paris, never stop there. The poor woman ended
by admitting to herself that she was reduced to the aborigines. Her

eye now began to assume a certain savage expression, to which the
malicious chevalier responded by a shrewd look as he drew out his

snuff-box and gazed at the Princess Goritza. Monsieur de Valois was
well aware that in the feminineethics of love fidelity to a first

attachment is considered a pledge for the future.
But Mademoiselle Cormon--we must admit it--was wanting in intellect,

and did not understand the snuff-box performance. She redoubled her
vigilance against "the evil spirit"; her rigid devotion and fixed

principles kept her cruel sufferings hidden among the mysteries of
private life. Every evening, after the company had left her, she

thought of her lost youth, her faded bloom, the hopes of thwarted
nature; and, all the while immolating her passions at the feet of the

Cross (like poems condemned to stay in a desk), she resolved firmly
that if, by chance, any suitor presented himself, to subject him to no

tests, but to accept him at once for whatever he might be. She even
went so far as to think of marrying a sub-lieutenant, a man who smoked

tobacco, whom she proposed to render, by dint of care and kindness,
one of the best men in the world, although he was hampered with debts.

But it was only in the silence of night watches that these fantastic
marriages, in which she played the sublime role of guardian angel,

took place. The next day, though Josette found her mistress' bed in a
tossed and tumbled condition, Mademoiselle Cormon had recovered her

dignity, and could only think of a man of forty, a land-owner, well
preserved, and a quasi-young man.

The Abbe de Sponde was incapable of giving his niece the slightest aid
in her matrimonial manoeuvres. The worthy soul, now seventy years of

age, attributed the disasters of the French Revolution to the design
of Providence, eager to punish a dissolute Church. He had therefore

flung himself into the path, long since abandoned, which anchorites
once followed in order to reach heaven: he led an ascetic life without

proclaiming it, and without external credit. He hid from the world his
works of charity, his continual prayers, his penances; he thought that