period of life when a man has judged men and social interests and

relations,--the opinions for which he was ready to sacrifice his
future would be modified in him, as they are in all men of real

superiority. To remain faithful to the Left side of Alencon was to
gain the aversion of Mademoiselle Cormon. There, indeed, the chevalier

saw true.
Thus we see that this society, so peaceful in appearance, was

internally as agitated as any diplomaticcircle, where craft, ability,
and passions group themselves around the grave questions of an empire.

The guests were now seated at the table laden with the first course,
which they ate as provincials eat, without shame at possessing a good

appetite, and not as in Paris, where it seems as if jaws gnashed under
sumptuary laws, which made it their business to contradict the laws of

anatomy. In Paris people eat with their teeth, and trifle with their
pleasure; in the provinces things are done naturally, and interest is

perhaps rather too much concentrated on the grand and universal means
of existence to which God has condemned his creatures.

It was at the end of the first course that Mademoiselle Cormon made
the most celebrated of her "speeches"; it was talked about for fully

two years, and is still told at the gatherings of the lesser
bourgeoisie whenever the topic of her marriage comes up.

The conversation, becoming lively as the penultimate entree was
reached, had turned naturally on the affair of the theatre and the

constitutionally sworn rector. In the first fervor of royalty, during
the year 1816, those who later were called Jesuits were all for the

expulsion of the Abbe Francois from his parish. Du Bousquier,
suspected by Monsieur de Valois of sustaining the priest and being at

the bottom of the theatre intrigues, and on whose back the adroit
chevalier would in any case have put those sins with his customary

cleverness, was in the dock with no lawyer to defend him. Athanase,
the only guest loyal enough to stand by du Bousquier, had not the

nerve to emit his ideas in the presence of those potentates of
Alencon, whom in his heart he thought stupid. None but provincial

youths now retain a respectful demeanor before men of a certain age,
and dare neither to censure nor contradict them. The talk, diminished

under the effect of certain delicious ducks dressed with olives, was
falling flat. Mademoiselle Cormon, feeling the necessity of

maintaining it against her own ducks, attempted to defend du
Bousquier, who was being represented as a pernicious fomenter of

intrigues, capable of any trickery.
"As for me," she said, "I thought that Monsieur du Bousquier cared

chiefly for childish things."
Under existing circumstances the remark had enormous success.

Mademoiselle Cormon obtained a great triumph; she brought the nose of
the Princess Goritza flat on the table. The chevalier, who little

expected such an apt remark from his Dulcinea, was so amazed that he
could at first find no words to express his admiration; he applauded

noiselessly, as they do at the Opera, tapping his fingers together to
imitate applause.

"She is adorably witty," he said to Madame Granson. "I always said
that some day she would unmask her batteries."

"In private she is always charming," replied the widow.
"In private, madame, all women have wit," returned the chevalier.

The Homeric laugh thus raised having subsided, Mademoiselle Cormon
asked the reason of her success. Then began the FORTE of the gossip.

Du Bousquier was depicted as a species of celibate Pere Gigogne, a
monster, who for the last fifteen years had kept the Foundling

Hospital supplied. His immoral habits were at last revealed! these
Parisian saturnalias were the result of them, etc., etc. Conducted by

the Chevalier de Valois, a most able leader of an orchestra of this
kind, the opening of the CANCAN was magnificent.

"I really don't know," he said, "what should hinder a du Bousquier
from marrying a Mademoiselle Suzanne What's-her-name. What IS her

name, do you know? Suzette! Though I have lodgings at Madame Lardot's,
I know her girls only by sight. If this Suzette is a tall, fine, saucy

girl, with gray eyes, a slim waist, and a pretty foot, whom I have
occasionally seen, and whose behavior always seemed to me extremely

insolent, she is far superior in manners to du Bousquier. Besides, the
girl has the nobility of beauty; from that point of view the marriage

would be a poor one for her; she might do better. You know how the
Emperor Joseph had the curiosity to see the du Barry at Luciennes. He

offered her his arm to walk about, and the poor thing was so surprised
at the honor that she hesitated to accept it: 'Beauty is ever a

queen,' said the Emperor. And he, you know, was an Austrian-German,"
added the chevalier. "But I can tell you that Germany, which is

thought here very rustic, is a land of noble chivalry and fine
manners, especially in Poland and Hungary, where--"

Here the chevalier stopped, fearing to slip into some allusion to his
personal happiness; he took out his snuff-box, and confided the rest

of his remarks to the princess, who had smiled upon him for thirty-six
years and more.

"That speech was rather a delicate one for Louis XV.," said du
Ronceret.

"But it was, I think, the Emperor Joseph who made it, and not Louis
XV.," remarked Mademoiselle Cormon, in a correcting tone.

"Mademoiselle," said the chevalier, observing the malicious glance
exchanged between the judge, the notary, and the recorder, "Madame du

Barry was the Suzanne of Louis XV.,--a circumstance well known to
scamps like ourselves, but unsuitable for the knowledge of young

ladies. Your ignorance proves you to be a flawless diamond; historical
corruptions do not enter your mind."

The Abbe de Sponde looked graciously at the Chevalier de Valois, and
nodded his head in sign of his laudatory approbation.

"Doesn't mademoiselle know history?" asked the recorder of mortgages.
"If you mix up Louis XV. and this girl Suzanne, how am I to know

history?" replied Mademoiselle Cormon, angelically, glad to see that
the dish of ducks was empty at last, and the conversation so ready to

revive that all present laughed with their mouths full at her last
remark.

"Poor girl!" said the Abbe de Sponde. "When a great misfortune
happens, charity, which is divine love, and as blind as pagan love,

ought not to look into the causes of it. Niece, you are president of
the Maternity Society; you must succor that poor girl, who will now

find it difficult to marry."
"Poor child!" ejaculated Mademoiselle Cormon.

"Do you suppose du Bousquier would marry her?" asked the judge.
"If he is an honorable man he ought to do so," said Madame Granson;

"but really, to tell the truth, my dog has better morals than he--"
"Azor is, however, a good purveyor," said the recorder of mortgages,

with the air of saying a witty thing.
At dessert du Bousquier was still the topic of conversation, having

given rise to various little jokes which the wine rendered sparkling.
Following the example of the recorder, each guest capped his

neighbor's joke with another: Du Bousquier was a father, but not a
confessor; he was father less; he was father LY; he was not a reverend

father; nor yet a conscript-father--
"Nor can he be a foster-father," said the Abbe de Sponde, with a

gravity which stopped the laughter.
"Nor a noble father," added the chevalier.

The Church and the nobility descended thus into the arena of puns,
without, however, losing their dignity.

"Hush!" exclaimed the recorder of mortgages. "I hear the creaking of
du Bousquier's boots."

It usually happens that a man is ignorant of rumors that are afloat
about him. A whole town may be talking of his affairs; may calumniate

and decry him, but if he has no good friends, he will know nothing
about it. Now the innocent du Bousquier was superb in his ignorance.

No one had told him as yet of Suzanne's revelations; he therefore
appeared very jaunty and slightlyconceited when the company, leaving

the dining-room, returned to the salon for their coffee; several other