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Granson, she was radiant with joy. At last she had a weapon, and a

terrible one, against du Bousquier; she could now deal him a mortal



blow. She had of course promised the poor seduced girl the support of

all charitable ladies and that of the members of the Maternity Society



in particular; she foresaw a dozen visits which would occupy her whole

day, and brew up a frightful storm on the head of the guilty du



Bousquier. The Chevalier de Valois, while foreseeing the turn the

affair would take, had really no idea of the scandal which would



result from his own action.

"My dear child," said Madame Granson to her son, "we are to dine, you



know, with Mademoiselle Cormon; do take a little pains with your

appearance. You are wrong to neglect your dress as you do. Put on that



handsome frilled shirt and your green coat of Elbeuf cloth. I have my

reasons," she added slyly. "Besides, Mademoiselle Cormon is going to



Prebaudet, and many persons will doubtless call to bid her good-bye.

When a young man is marriageable he ought to take every means to make



himself agreeable. If girls would only tell the truth, heavens! my

dear boy, you'd be astonished at what makes them fall in love. Often



it suffices for a man to ride past them at the head of a company of

artillery, or show himself at a ball in tight clothes. Sometimes a



mere turn of the head, a melancholy attitude, makes them suppose a

man's whole life; they'll invent a romance to match the hero--who is



often a mere brute, but the marriage is made. Watch the Chevalier de

Valois: study him; copy his manners; see with what ease he presents



himself; he never puts on a stiff air, as you do. Talk a little more;

one would really think you didn't know anything,--you, who know Hebrew



by heart."

Athanase listened to his mother with a surprised but submissive air;



then he rose, took his cap, and went off to the mayor's office, saying

to himself, "Can my mother suspect my secret?"



He passed through the rue du Val-Noble, where Mademoiselle Cormon

lived,--a little pleasure which he gave himself every morning,



thinking, as usual, a variety of fanciful things:--

"How little she knows that a young man is passing before her house who



loves her well, who would be faithful to her, who would never cause

her any grief; who would leave her the entire management of her



fortune without interference. Good God! what fatality! here, side by

side, in the same town, are two persons in our mutual condition, and



yet nothing can bring them together. Suppose I were to speak to her

this evening?"



During this time Suzanne had returned to her mother's house thinking

of Athanase; and, like many other women who have longed to help an



adored man beyond the limit of human powers, she felt herself capable

of making her body a stepping-stone on which he could rise to attain



his throne.

It is now necessary to enter the house of this old maid toward whom so



many interests are converging, where the actors in this scene, with

the exception of Suzanne, were all to meet this very evening. As for



Suzanne, that handsome individual bold enough to burn her ships like

Alexander at her start in life, and to begin the battle by a



falsehood, she disappears from the stage, having introduced upon it a

violent element of interest. Her utmost wishes were gratified. She



quitted her native town a few days later, well supplied with money and

good clothes, among which was a fine dress of green reps and a



charming green bonnet lined with pink, the gift of Monsieur de Valois,

--a present which she preferred to all the rest, even the money. If



the chevalier had gone to Paris in the days of her future brilliancy,

she would certainly have left every one for him. Like the chaste



Susannah of the Bible, whom the Elders hardly saw, she established

herself joyously and full of hope in Paris, while all Alencon was



deploring her misfortunes, for which the ladies of two Societies

(Charity and Maternity) manifested the liveliest sympathy. Though



Suzanne is a fair specimen of those handsome Norman women whom a

learned physician reckons as comprising one third of her fallen class



whom our monstrous Paris absorbs, it must be stated that she remained




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