life still more sorrowful; for she now felt the suffering her uncle
must have endured in witnessing the change of political and religious

opinion in the old house. Sorrow often falls like a thunderbolt, as it
did on Madame Granson; but in this old maid it slowly spread like a

drop of oil, which never leaves the stuff that slowly imbibes it.
The Chevalier de Valois was the malicious manipulator who brought

about the crowning misfortune of Madame du Bousquier's life. His heart
was set on undeceiving her pious simplicity; for the chevalier, expert

in love, divined du Bousquier, the married man, as he had divined du
Bousquier, the bachelor. But the wary republican was difficult of

attack. His salon was, of course, closed to the Chevalier de Valois,
as to all those who, in the early days of his marriage, had slighted

the Cormon mansion. He was, moreover, impervious to ridicule; he
possessed a vast fortune; he reigned in Alencon; he cared as little

for his wife as Richard III. cared for the dead horse which had helped
him win a battle. To please her husband, Madame du Bousquier had

broken off relations with the d'Esgrignon household, where she went no
longer, except that sometimes when her husband left her during his

trips to Paris, she would pay a brief visit to Mademoiselle Armande.
About three years after her marriage, at the time of the Abbe de

Sponde's death, Mademoiselle Armande joined Madame du Bousquier as
they were leaving Saint-Leonard's, where they had gone to hear a

requiem said for him. The generous demoiselle thought that on this
occasion she owed her sympathy to the niece in trouble. They walked

together, talking of the dear deceased, until they reached the
forbidden house, into which Mademoiselle Armande enticed Madame du

Bousquier by the charm of her manner and conversation. The poor
desolate woman was glad to talk of her uncle with one whom he truly

loved. Moreover, she wanted to receive the condolences of the old
marquis, whom she had not seen for nearly three years. It was half-

past one o'clock, and she found at the hotel d'Esgrignon the Chevalier
de Valois, who had come to dinner. As he bowed to her, he took her by

the hands.
"Well, dear, virtuous, and beloved lady," he said, in a tone of

emotion, "we have lost our sainted friend; we share your grief. Yes,
your loss is as keenly felt here as in your own home,--more so," he

added, alluding to du Bousquier.
After a few more words of funeraloration, in which all present spoke

from the heart, the chevalier took Madame du Bousquier's arm, and,
gallantly placing it within his own, pressed it adoringly as he led

her to the recess of a window.
"Are you happy?" he said in a fatherly voice.

"Yes," she said, dropping her eyes.
Hearing that "Yes," Madame de Troisville, the daughter of the Princess

Scherbellof, and the old Marquise de Casteran came up and joined the
chevalier, together with Mademoiselle Armande. They all went to walk

in the garden until dinner was served, without any perception on the
part of Madame du Bousquier that a little conspiracy was afoot. "We

have her! now let us find out the secret of the case," were the words
written in the eyes of all present.

"To make your happiness complete," said Mademoiselle Armande, "you
ought to have children,--a fine lad like my nephew--"

Tears seemed to start in Madame du Bousquier's eyes.
"I have heard it said that you were the one to blame in the matter,

and that you feared the dangers of a pregnancy," said the chevalier.
"I!" she said artlessly. "I would buy a child with a hundred years of

purgatory if I could."
On the question thus started a discussion arose, conducted by Madame

de Troisville and the old Marquise de Casteran with such delicacy and
adroitness that the poor victim revealed, without being aware of it,

the secrets of her house. Mademoiselle Armande had taken the
chevalier's arm, and walked away so as to leave the three women free

to discuss wedlock. Madame du Bousquier was then enlightened on the
various deceptions of her marriage; and as she was still the same

simpleton she had always been, she amused her advisers by delightful
naivetes.

Although at first the deceptive marriage of Mademoiselle Cormon made a
laugh throughout the town, which was soon initiated into the story of

the case, before long Madame du Bousquier won the esteem and sympathy
of all the women. The fact that Mademoiselle Cormon had flung herself

headlong into marriage without succeeding in being married, made
everybody laugh at her; but when they learned the exceptional position

in which the sternness of her religious principles placed her, all the
world admired her. "That poor Madame du Bousquier" took the place of

"That good Mademoiselle Cormon."
Thus the chevalier contrived to render du Bousquier both ridiculous

and odious for a time; but ridicule ends by weakening; when all had
said their say about him, the gossip died out. Besides, at fifty-seven

years of age the dumb republican seemed to many people to have a right
to retire. This affair, however, envenomed the hatred which du

Bousquier already bore to the house of Esgrignon to such a degree that
it made him pitiless when the day of vengeance came. [See "The Gallery

of Antiquities."] Madame du Bousquier received orders never again to
set foot into that house. By way of reprisals upon the chevalier for

the trick thus played him, du Bousquier, who had just created the
journal called the "Courrier de l'Orne," caused the following notice

to be inserted in it:--
"Bonds to the amount of one thousand francs a year will be paid to

any person who can prove the existence of one Monsieur de
Pombreton before, during, or after the Emigration."

Although her marriage was essentiallynegative, Madame du Bousquier
saw some advantages in it: was it not better to interest herself in

the most remarkable man in the town than to live alone? Du Bousquier
was preferable to a dog, or cat, or those canaries that spinsters

love. He showed for his wife a sentiment more real and less selfish
than that which is felt by servants, confessors, and hopeful heirs.

Later in life she came to consider her husband as the instrument of
divine wrath; for she then saw innumerable sins in her former desires

for marriage; she regarded herself as justly punished for the sorrow
she had brought on Madame Granson, and for the hastened death of her

uncle. Obedient to that religion which commands us to kiss the rod
with which the punishment is inflicted, she praised her husband, and

publicly approved him. But in the confessional, or at night, when
praying, she wept often, imploring God's forgiveness for the apostasy

of the man who thought the contrary of what he professed, and who
desired the destruction of the aristocracy and the Church,--the two

religions of the house of Cormon.
With all her feelings bruised and immolated within her, compelled by

duty to make her husband happy, attached to him by a certain
indefinable affection, born, perhaps, of habit, her life became one

perpetual contradiction. She had married a man whose conduct and
opinions she hated, but whom she was bound to care for with dutiful

tenderness. Often she walked with the angels when du Bousquier ate her
preserves or thought the dinner good. She watched to see that his

slightest wish was satisfied. If he tore off the cover of his
newspaper and left it on a table, instead of throwing it away, she

would say:--
"Rene, leave that where it is; monsieur did not place it there without

intention."
If du Bousquier had a journey to take, she was anxious about his

trunk, his linen; she took the most minute precautions for his
material benefit. If he went to Prebaudet, she consulted the barometer

the evening before to know if the weather would be fine. She watched
for his will in his eyes, like a dog which hears and sees its master

while sleeping. When the stout du Bousquier, touched by this
scrupulous love, would take her round the waist and kiss her forehead,

saying, "What a good woman you are!" tears of pleasure would come into
the eyes of the poor creature. It is probably that du Bousquier felt

himself obliged to make certain concessions which obtained for him the
respect of Rose-Marie-Victoire; for Catholic virtue does not require a

dissimulation as complete as that of Madame du Bousquier. Often the
good saint sat mutely by and listened to the hatred of men who

concealed themselves under the cloak of constitutional royalists. She
shuddered as she foresaw the ruin of the Church. Occasionally she

risked a stupid word, an observation which du Bousquier cut short with
a glance.

The worries of such an existence ended by stupefying Madame du
Bousquier, who found it easier and also more dignified to concentrate