y and the worship of etiquette. At first, gratified vanity at
his selection as an intimate by so great a lady, and pleasure at the
opportunity given him for the study of what was separated from the
ordinary world by an impassable barrier, were Balzac's chief
inducements for frequent visits to the Rue de Varenne. Gradually,
however, the caressing tones of Madame de Castries' voice, the quiet
grace of her language, and her infinite variety, found their way to
his heart, and he fell madly in love.

Speaking of her afterwards in the "Duchesse de Langeais," which was
written in the utmost bitterness, when he had been, according to his
own view, led on, played with and deceived by the fascinating
Marquise, Balzac describes her thus: She was "eminently a woman, and
essentially a coquette, Parisian to the core, loving the brilliancy of
the world and its amusements, reflecting not at all, or reflecting too
late; of a natural imprudence which rose at times almost to poetic
heights, deliciously insolent, yet humble in the depths of her heart,
asserting strength like a reed erect, but, like the reed, ready to
bend beneath a firm hand; talking much of religion, not loving it, and
yet prepared to accept it as a possible finality."

In the same book are several interesting remarks about Armand de
Montriveau, the lover of the Duchesse de Langeais, who is, in many
points, Balzac under another name. On one page we read: "He seemed to
have reached some crisis in his life, but all took place within his
own breast, and he confided nothing to the world without." In another
place is a description of Montriveau's appearance. "His head, which
was large and square, had the characteristic trait of an abundant mass
of black hair, which surrounded his face in a way that recalled
General Kleber, whom indeed he also resembled in the vigour of his
bearing, the shape of his face, the tranquil courage of his eye, and
the expression of inward ardour which shone out through his strong
features. He was of medium height, broad in the chest, and muscular as
a lion. When he walked, his carriage, his step, his least gesture,
bespoke a consciousness of power which was imposing; there was
something even despotic about it. He seemed aware that nothing could
oppose his will; possibly because he willed only that which was right.
Nevertheless, he was, like all really strong men, gentle in speech,
simple in manner, and naturally kind." Certainly Balzac, as usual, di