o
marry, of eighteen hundred thousand francs; les Rouxey, with the Baron's
additions, and certain improvements, might yield twenty thousand francs
a year, besides the value of the house, rents, and preserves. So Rosalie
and her mother, who soon adopted the Paris style and fashions, easily
obtained introductions to the best society. The golden key--eighteen
hundred thousand francs--embroidered on Mademoiselle de Watteville's
stomacher, did more for the Comtesse de Soulas than her pretensions _a
la_ de Rupt, her inappropriate pride, or even her rather distant great
connections.

In the month of February 1838 Rosalie, who was eagerly courted by many
young men, achieved the purpose which had brought her to Paris. This
was to meet the Duchesse de Rhetore, to see this wonderful woman, and
to overwhelm her with perennial remorse. Rosalie gave herself up to the
most bewildering elegance and vanities in order to face the Duchess on
an equal footing.

They first met at a ball given annually after 1830 for the benefit of
the pensioners on the old Civil List. A young man, prompted by Rosalie,
pointed her out to the Duchess, saying:

"There is a very remarkable young person, a strong-minded young lady
too! She drove a clever man into a monastery--the Grand Chartreuse--a
man of immense capabilities, Albert de Savarus, whose career she
wrecked. She is Mademoiselle de Watteville, the famous Besancon
heiress----"

The Duchess turned pale. Rosalie's eyes met hers with one of those
flashes which, between woman and woman, are more fatal than the pistol
shots of a duel. Francesca Soderini, who had suspected that Albert might
be innocent, hastily quitted the ballroom, leaving the speaker at his
wits' end to guess what terrible blow he had inflicted on the beautiful
Duchesse de Rhetore.

"If you want to hear more about Albert, come to the Opera ball on
Tuesday with a marigold in your hand."

This anonymous note, sent by Rosalie to the Duchess, brought the unhappy
Italian to the ball, where Mademoiselle de Watteville placed in her
hand all Albert's letters, with that written to Leopold Hannequin by the
Vicar-General, and the notary's reply, and even that in which she had
written her confession to the Abbe de Grancey.

"I do not choose to be the only sufferer," she said to her rival, "for
one has been as ruthless as the other."

After enjoying the dismay stamped on the Duchess' beautiful face,
Rosalie went away; she went out no more,