"
In short, was there anything not said of an heiress who was talked
of through a circumference of fifty miles, and even in the public
conveyances from Angers to Blois, inclusively!

At the beginning of 1811, the Cruchotines won a signal advantage over
the Grassinists. The estate of Froidfond, remarkable for its park,
its mansion, its farms, streams, ponds, forests, and worth about three
millions, was put up for sale by the young Marquis de Froidfond, who was
obliged to liquidate his possessions. Maitre Cruchot, the president, and
the abbe, aided by their adherents, were able to prevent the sale of the
estate in little lots. The notary concluded a bargain with the young
man for the whole property, payable in gold, persuading him that suits
without number would have to be brought against the purchasers of small
lots before he could get the money for them; it was better, therefore,
to sell the whole to Monsieur Grandet, who was solvent and able to pay
for the estate in ready money. The fine marquisate of Froidfond was
accordingly conveyed down the gullet of Monsieur Grandet, who, to the
great astonishment of Saumur, paid for it, under proper discount, with
the usual formalities.

This affair echoed from Nantes to Orleans. Monsieur Grandet took
advantage of a cart returning by way of Froidfond to go and see his
chateau. Having cast a master's eye over the whole property, he returned
to Saumur, satisfied that he had invested his money at five per cent,
and seized by the stupendous thought of extending and increasing the
marquisate of Froidfond by concentrating all his property there. Then,
to fill up his coffers, now nearly empty, he resolved to thin out his
woods and his forests, and to sell off the poplars in the meadows.

II

It is now easy to understand the full meaning of the term, "the house of
Monsieur Grandet,"--that cold, silent, pallid dwelling, standing above
the town and sheltered by the ruins of the ramparts. The two pillars and
the arch, which made the porte-cochere on which the door opened, were
built, like the house itself, of tufa,--a white stone peculiar to the
shores of the Loire, and so soft that it lasts hardly more than two
centuries. Numberless irregular holes, capriciously bored or eaten out
by the inclemency of the weather, gave an appearance of the vermiculated
stonework of French architecture to the arch and the side walls of this
entrance, which bore some resemblance to the gateway of a