trickery. Ah, Modeste," he said, with tears in his voice, "your poet,
the poet of Madame de Chaulieu, has no less poetry in his heart than

in his mind. You are about to see the duchess; suspend your judgment
of me till then."

He left Modeste half bewildered.
"Oh, dear!" she said to herself; "it seems they are all angels--and

not marriageable; the duke is the only one that belongs to humanity."
"Mademoiselle Modeste," said Butscha, appearing with a parcel under

his arm, "this hunt makes me very uneasy. I dreamed your horse ran
away with you, and I have been to Rouen to see if I could get a

Spanish bit which, they tell me, a horse can't take between his teeth.
I entreat you to use it. I have shown it to the colonel, and he has

thanked me more than there is any occasion for."
"Poor, dear Butscha!" cried Modeste, moved to tears by this maternal

care.
Butscha went skipping off like a man who has just heard of the death

of a rich uncle.
"My dear father," said Modeste, returning to the salon; "I should like

to have that beautiful whip,--suppose you were to ask Monsieur de La
Briere to exchange it for your picture by Van Ostade."

Modeste looked furtively at Ernest, while the colonel made him this
proposition, standing before the picture which was the sole thing he

possessed in memory of his campaigns, having bought it of a burgher at
Rabiston; and she said to herself as La Briere left the room

precipitately, "He will be at the hunt."
A curious thing happened. Modeste's three lovers each and all went to

Rosembray with their hearts full of hope, and captivated by her many
perfections.

Rosembray,--an estatelately purchased by the Duc de Verneuil, with
the money which fell to him as his share of the thousand millions

voted as indemnity for the sale of the lands of the emigres,--is
remarkable for its chateau, whose magnificence compares only with that

of Mesniere or of Balleroy. This imposing and noble edifice is
approached by a wide avenue of four rows of venerable elms, from which

the visitor enters an immense rising court-yard, like that at
Versailles, with magnificent iron railings and two lodges, and adorned

with rows of large orange-trees in their tubs. Facing this court-yard,
the chateau presents, between two fronts of the main building which

retreat on either side of this projection, a double row of nineteen
tall windows, with carved arches and diamond panes, divided from each

other by a series of fluted pilasters surmounted by an entablature
which hides an Italian roof, from which rise several stone chimneys

masked by carved trophies of arms. Rosembray was built, under Louis
XIV., by a "fermier-general" named Cottin. The facade toward the park

differs from that on the court-yard by having a narrower projection in
the centre, with columns between five windows, above which rises a

magnificent pediment. The family of Marigny, to whom the estates of
this Cottin were brought in marriage by Mademoiselle Cottin, her

father's sole heiress, ordered a sunrise to be carved on this pediment
by Coysevox. Beneath it are two angels unwinding a scroll, on which is

cut this motto in honor of the Grand Monarch, "Sol nobis benignus."
From the portico, reached by two grand circular and balustraded

flights of steps, the view extends over an immense fish-pond, as long
and wide as the grand canal at Versailles, beginning at the foot of a

grass-plot which compares well with the finest English lawns, and
bordered with beds and baskets now filled with the brilliant flowers

of autumn. On either side of the piece of water two gardens, laid out
in the French style, display their squares and long straight paths,

like brilliant pages written in the ciphers of Lenotre. These gardens
are backed to their whole length by a border of nearly thirty acres of

woodland. From the terrace the view is bounded by a forest belonging
to Rosembray and contiguous to two other forests, one of which belongs

to the Crown, the other to the State. It would be difficult to find a
nobler landscape.

CHAPTER XXVII
A GIRL'S REVENGE

Modeste's arrival at Rosembray made a certain sensation in the avenue
when the carriage with the liveries of France came in sight,

accompanied by the grand equerry, the colonel, Canalis, and La Briere
on horseback, preceded by an outrider in full dress, and followed by

six servants,--among whom were the Negroes and the mulatto,--and the
britzka of the colonel for the two waiting-women and the luggage. The

carriage was drawn by four horses, ridden by postilions dressed with
an elegancespecially commanded by the grand equerry, who was often

better served than the king himself. As Modeste, dazzled by the
magnificence of the great lords, entered and beheld this lesser

Versailles, she suddenly remembered her approaching interview with the
celebrated duchesses, and began to fear that she might seem awkward,

or provincial, or parvenue; in fact, she lost her self-possession, and
heartily repented having wished for a hunt.

Fortunately, however, as the carriage drew up, Modeste saw an old man,
in a blond wig frizzed into little curls, whose calm, plump, smooth

face wore a fatherly smile and an expression of monastic cheerfulness
which the half-veiled glance of the eye rendered almost noble. This

was the Duc de Verneuil, master of Rosembray. The duchess, a woman of
extreme piety, the only daughter of a rich and deceased chief-justice,

spare and erect, and the mother of four children, resembled Madame
Latournelle,--if the imagination can go so far as to adorn the

notary's wife with the graces of a bearing that was truly abbatial.
"Ah, good morning, dear Hortense!" said Mademoiselle d'Herouville,

kissing the duchess with the sympathy that united their haughty
natures; "let me present to you and to the dear duke our little angel,

Mademoiselle de La Bastie."
"We have heard so much of you, mademoiselle," said the duchess, "that

we were in haste to receive you."
"And regret the time lost," added the Duc de Verneuil, with courteous

admiration.
"Monsieur le Comte de La Bastie," said the grand equerry, taking the

colonel by the arm and presenting him to the duke and duchess, with an
air of respect in his tone and gesture.

"I am glad to welcome you, Monsieur le comte!" said Monsieur de
Verneuil. "You possess more than one treasure," he added, looking at

Modeste.
The duchess took Modeste under her arm and led her into an immense

salon, where a dozen or more women were grouped about the fireplace.
The men of the party remained with the duke on the terrace, except

Canalis, who respectfully made his way to the superb Eleonore. The
Duchesse de Chaulieu, seated at an embroidery-frame, was showing

Mademoiselle de Verneuil how to shade a flower.
If Modeste had run a needle through her finger when handling a pin-

cushion she could not have felt a sharper prick than she received from
the cold and haughty and contemptuous stare with which Madame de

Chaulieu favored her. For an instant she saw nothing but that one
woman, and she saw through her. To understand the depths of cruelty to

which these charming creatures, whom our passions deify, can go, we
must see women with each other. Modeste would have disarmed almost any

other than Eleonore by the perfectlystupid and involuntary admiration
which her face betrayed. Had she not known the duchess's age she would

have thought her a woman of thirty-six; but other and greater
astonishments awaited her.

The poet had run plump against a great lady's anger. Such anger is the
worst of sphinxes; the face is radiant, all the rest menacing. Kings

themselves cannot make the exquisitepoliteness of a mistress's cold
anger capitulate when she guards it with steel armor. Canalis tried to

cling to the steel, but his fingers slipped on the polished surface,
like his words on the heart; and the gracious face, the gracious

words, the graciousbearing of the duchess hid the steel of her wrath,
now fallen to twenty-five below zero, from all observers. The

appearance of Modeste in her sublime beauty, and dressed as well as
Diane de Maufrigneuse herself, had fired the train of gunpowder which

reflection had been laying in Eleonore's mind.
All the women had gone to the windows to see the new wonder get out of

the royal carriage, attended by her three suitors.
"Do not let us seem so curious," Madame de Chaulieu had said, cut to