the text
of a very witty letter, in which the princess rendered to "Madame" an
account of the negotiations. The Duc de Maufrigneuse went to La Vendee,
and was able to return secretly without being compromised, but not
without taking part in "Madame's" perils; the latter, however, sent
him home the moment she saw that her cause was lost. Perhaps, had he
remained, the eager vigilance of the young man might have foiled that
treachery. However great the faults of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse may
have seemed in the eyes of the bourgeoisie, the behavior of her son on
this occasion certainly effaced them in the eyes of the aristocracy.
There was great nobility and grandeur in thus risking her only son, and
the heir of an historic name. Some persons are said to intentionally
cover the faults of their private life by public services, and vice
versa; but the Princesse de Cadignan made no such calculation. Possibly
those who apparently so conduct themselves make none. Events count for
much in such cases.

On one of the first fine days in the month of May, 1833, the Marquise
d'Espard and the princess were turning about--one could hardly call
it walking--in the single path which wound round the grass-plat in
the garden, about half-past two in the afternoon, just as the sun was
leaving it. The rays reflected on the walls gave a warm atmosphere
to the little space, which was fragrant with flowers, the gift of the
marquise.

"We shall soon lose de Marsay," said the marquise; "and with him will
disappear your last hope of fortune for your son. Ever since you played
him that clever trick, he has returned to his affection for you."

"My son will never capitulate to the younger branch," returned the
princess, "if he has to die of hunger, or I have to work with my hands
to feed him. Besides, Berthe de Cinq-Cygne has no aversion to him."

"Children don't bind themselves to their parents' principles," said
Madame d'Espard.

"Don't let us talk about it," said the princess. "If I can't coax over
the Marquise de Cinq-Cygne, I shall marry Georges to the daughter of
some iron-founderer, as that little d'Esgrignon did."

"Did you love Victurnien?" asked the marquise.

"No," replied the princess, gravely, "d'Esgrignon's simplicity was
really only a sort of provincial silliness, which I perceived rather too
late--or, if you choose, too soon."

"And de Marsay?"

"De Marsay played with me as if I were a doll. I was so young at the
time! We