ed the avarice of her parents. Madame Graslin had never
understood the necessity of money until the time came when her
benevolence was checked.

By the beginning of the year 1828 Veronique had entirely recovered the
blooming health which had given such beauty to the innocent young girl
sitting at her window in the old house in the rue de la Cite; but by
this time she had acquired a fine literary education, and was fully
able to think and to speak. An excellent judgment gave real depth to
her words. Accustomed now to the little things of life, she wore the
fashions of the period with infinite grace. When she chanced about this
time to visit a salon she found herself--not without a certain inward
surprise--received by all with respectful esteem. These changed
feelings and this welcome were due to the two vicars-general and to
old Grossetete. Informed by them of her noble hidden life, and the
good deeds so constantly done in their midst, the bishop and a few
influential persons spoke of Madame Graslin as a flower of true piety,
a violet fragrant with virtues; in consequence of which, one of those
strong reactions set in, unknown to Veronique, which are none the less
solid and durable because they are long in coming. This change in public
opinion gave additional influence to Veronique's salon, which was
now visited by all the chief persons in the society of the town, in
consequence of certain circumstances we shall now relate.

Toward the close of this year the young Vicomte de Grandville was sent
as deputy solicitor to the courts of Limoges. He came preceded by a
reputation always given to Parisians in the provinces. A few days after
his arrival, during a soiree at the prefecture, he made answer to
a rather foolish question, that the most able, intelligent, and
distinguished woman he had met in the town was Madame Graslin.

"Perhaps you think her the handsomest also?" said the wife of the
receiver-general.

"I cannot think so in your presence, madame," he replied, "and therefore
I am in doubt. Madame Graslin possesses a beauty which need inspire no
jealousy, for it seldom shows itself: she is only beautiful to those she
loves; you are beautiful to all the world. When Madame Graslin's soul
is moved by true enthusiasm, it sheds an expression upon her face which
changes it completely. Her countenance is like a landscape,--dull in
winter, glorious in summer; but the world will always see it in winter.
When she talks with f