ad told him, he saw Mademoiselle
de Pen-Hoel's intention, and, in the mood in which he then was, nothing
could have been more fatal. The mere idea of a girl thus imposed upon
him sent him with greater ardor into his imaginary love. He had never
had a fancy for Charlotte de Kergarouet, and he now felt repugnance at
the very thought of her. Calyste was quite unaffected by questions of
fortune; from infancy he had accustomed his life to the poverty and the
restricted means of his father's house. A young man brought up as he had
been, and now partially emancipated, was likely to consider sentiments
only, and all his sentiments, all his thought now belonged to the
marquise. In presence of the portrait which Camille had drawn for him
of her friend, what was that little Charlotte? the companion of his
childhood, whom he thought of as a sister.

He did not go home till five in the afternoon. As he entered the hall
his mother gave him, with a rather sad smile, the following letter from
Mademoiselle des Touches:--

My dear Calyste,--The beautiful marquise has come; we count on you
to help us celebrate her arrival. Claude, always sarcastic,
declares that you will play Bice and that she will be Dante. It is
for our honor as Bretons, and yours as a du Guenic to welcome a
Casteran. Come soon.
Your friend, Camille Maupin.

Come as you are, without ceremony; otherwise you will put us to
the blush.

Calyste gave the letter to his mother and departed.

"Who are the Casterans?" said Fanny to the baron.

"An old Norman family, allied to William the Conqueror," he replied.
"They bear on a shield tierce fessed azure, gules and sable, a horse
rearing argent, shod with gold. That beautiful creature for whom the
Gars was killed at Fougeres in 1800 was the daughter of a Casteran
who made herself a nun, and became an abbess after the Duc de Verneuil
deserted her."

"And the Rochefides?"

"I don't know that name. I should have to see the blazon," he replied.

The baroness was somewhat reassured on hearing that the Marquise de
Rochefide was born of a noble family, but she felt that her son was now
exposed to new seductions.

Calyste as he walked along felt all sorts of violent and yet soft inward
movements; his throat was tight, his heart swelled, his brain was full,
a fever possessed him. He tried to walk slowly, but some superior power
hurried him. This impetuosity of the several senses excited by vague
expectation i