Presently, in spite of a driving rain, Mademoiselle Cormon drove away

from Prebaudet, leaving her factotums with the reins on their necks.
Jacquelin dared not take upon himself to hasten the usual little trot

of the peaceable Penelope, who, like the beautiful queen whose name
she bore, had an appearance of making as many steps backward as she

made forward. Impatient with the pace, mademoiselle ordered Jacquelin
in a sharp voice to drive at a gallop, with the whip, if necessary, to

the great astonishment of the poor beast, so afraid was she of not
having time to arrange the house suitably to receive Monsieur de

Troisville. She calculated that the grandson of her uncle's friend was
probably about forty years of age; a soldier just from service was

undoubtedly a bachelor; and she resolved, her uncle aiding, not to let
Monsieur de Troisville quit their house in the condition he entered

it. Though Penelope galloped, Mademoiselle Cormon, absorbed in
thoughts of her trousseau and the wedding-day, declared again and

again that Jacquelin made no way at all. She twisted about in the
carriole without replying to Josette's questions, and talked to

herself like a person who is mentally revolving important designs.
The carriole at last arrived in the main street of Alencon, called the

rue Saint-Blaise at the end toward Montagne, but near the hotel du
More it takes the name of the rue de la Porte-de-Seez, and becomes the

rue du Bercail as it enters the road to Brittany. If the departure of
Mademoiselle Cormon made a great noise in Alencon, it is easy to

imagine the uproar caused by her sudden return on the following day,
in a pouring rain which beat her face without her apparently minding

it. Penelope at a full gallop was observed by every one, and
Jacquelin's grin, the early hour, the parcels stuffed into the

carriole topsy-turvy, and the evidentimpatience of Mademoiselle
Cormon were all noted.

The property of the house of Troisville lay between Alencon and
Mortagne. Josette knew the various branches of the family. A word

dropped by mademoiselle as they entered Alencon had put Josette on the
scent of the affair; and a discussion having started between them, it

was settled that the expected de Troisville must be between forty and
forty-two years of age, a bachelor, and neither rich nor poor.

Mademoiselle Cormon beheld herself speedily Vicomtesse de Troisville.
"And to think that my uncle told me nothing! thinks of nothing!

inquires nothing! That's my uncle all over. He'd forget his own nose
if it wasn't fastened to his face."

Have you never remarked that, under circumstances such as these, old
maids become, like Richard III., keen-witted, fierce, bold,

promissory,--if one may so use the word,--and, like inebriate clerks,
no longer in awe of anything?

Immediately the town of Alencon, speedily informed from the farther
end of the rue de Saint-Blaise to the gate of Seez of this precipitate

return, accompanied by singular circumstances, was perturbed
throughout its viscera, both public and domestic. Cooks, shopkeepers,

street passengers, told the news from door to door; thence it rose to
the upper regions. Soon the words: "Mademoiselle Cormon has returned!"

burst like a bombshell into all households. At that moment Jacquelin
was descending from his wooden seat (polished by a process unknown to

cabinet-makers), on which he perched in front of the carriole. He
opened the great green gate, round at the top, and closed in sign of

mourning; for during Mademoiselle Cormon's absence the evening
assemblies did not take place. The faithful invited the Abbe de Sponde

to their several houses; and Monsieur de Valois paid his debt by
inviting him to dine at the Marquis d'Esgrignon's. Jacquelin, having

opened the gate, called familiarly to Penelope, whom he had left in
the middle of the street. That animal, accustomed to this proceeding,

turned in of herself, and circled round the courtyard in a manner to
avoid injuring the flower-bed. Jacquelin then took her bridle, and led

the carriage to the portico.
"Mariette!" cried Mademoiselle Cormon.

"Mademoiselle!" exclaimed Mariette, who was occupied in closing the
gate.

"Has the gentleman arrived?"
"No, mademoiselle."

"Where's my uncle?"
"He is at church, mademoiselle."

Jacquelin and Josette were by this time on the first step of the
portico, holding out their hands to manoeuvre the exit of their

mistress from the carriole as she pulled herself up by the sides of
the vehicle and clung to the curtains. Mademoiselle then threw herself

into their arms; because for the last two years she dared not risk her
weight on the iron step, affixed to the frame of the carriage by a

horrible mechanism of clumsy bolts.
When Mademoiselle Cormon reached the level of the portico she looked

about her courtyard with an air of satisfaction.
"Come, come, Mariette, leave that gate alone; I want you."

"There's something in the wind," whispered Jacquelin, as Mariette
passed the carriole.

"Mariette, what provisions have you in the house?" asked Mademoiselle
Cormon, sitting down on the bench in the long antechamber like a

person overcome with fatigue.
"I haven't anything," replied Mariette, with her hands on her hips.

"Mademoiselle knows very well that during her absence Monsieur l'abbe
dines out every day. Yesterday I went to fetch him from Mademoiselle

Armande's."
"Where is he now?"

"Monsieur l'abbe? Why, at church; he won't be in before three
o'clock."

"He thinks of nothing! he ought to have told you to go to market.
Mariette, go at once; and without wasting money, don't spare it; get

all there is that is good and delicate. Go to the diligence office and
see if you can send for pates; and I want shrimps from the Brillante.

What o'clock is it?"
"A quarter to nine."

"Good heavens! Mariette, don't stop to chatter. The person my uncle
expects may arrive at any moment. If we had to give him breakfast,

where should we be with nothing in the house?"
Mariette turned back to Penelope in a lather, and looked at Jacquelin

as if she would say, "Mademoiselle has put her hand on a husband THIS
time."

"Now, Josette," continued the old maid, "let us see where we had
better put Monsieur de Troisville to sleep."

With what joy she said the words, "Put Monsieur de Troisville"
(pronounced Treville) "to sleep." How many ideas in those few words!

The old maid was bathed in hope.
"Will you put him in the green chamber?"

"The bishop's room? No; that's too near mine," said Mademoiselle
Cormon. "All very well for monseigneur; he's a saintly man."

"Give him your uncle's room."
"Oh, that's so bare; it is actually indecent."

"Well, then, mademoiselle, why not arrange a bed in your boudoir? It
is easily done; and there's a fire-place. Moreau can certainly find in

his warerooms a bed to match the hangings."
"You are right, Josette. Go yourself to Moreau; consult with him what

to do; I authorize you to get what is wanted. If the bed could be put
up to-night without Monsieur de Troisville observing it (in case

Monsieur de Troisville arrives while Moreau is here), I should like
it. If Moreau won't engage to do this, then I must put Monsieur de

Troisville in the green room, although Monsieur de Troisville would be
so very near to me."

Josette was departing when her mistress recalled her.
"Stop! explain the matter to Jacquelin," she cried, in a loud nervous