her?" demanded the old maid.

"I have been, but I am so no longer," he said.

"Bad boy! then why have you given us such anxiety? I know very well
that love is only foolishness; there is nothing solid but marriage," she
remarked, looking at Charlotte.

Charlotte, somewhat reassured, hoped to recover her advantages by
recalling the memories of childhood. She leaned affectionately on
Calyste's arm, who resolved in his own mind to have a clear explanation
with the little heiress.

"Ah! what fun we shall have at _mouche_, Calyste!" she said; "what good
laughs we used to have over it!"

The horses were now put in; Camille placed Madame de Kergarouet and
Charlotte on the back seat. Jacqueline having disappeared, she herself,
with the marquise, sat forward. Calyste was, of course, obliged to
relinquish the pleasure on which he had counted, of driving back with
Camille and Beatrix, but he rode beside the carriage all the way; the
horses, being tired with the journey, went slowly enough to allow him to
keep his eyes on Beatrix.

History must lose the curious conversations that went on between these
four persons whom accident had so strangely united in this carriage, for
it is impossible to report the hundred and more versions which went
the round of Nantes on the remarks, replies, and witticisms which
the viscountess heard from the lips of the celebrated Camille Maupin
_herself_. She was, however, very careful not to repeat, not even to
comprehend, the actual replies made by Mademoiselle des Touches to her
absurd questions about Camille's authorship,--a penance to which all
authors are subjected, and which often make them expiate the few and
rare pleasures that they win.

"How do you write your books?" she began.

"Much as you do your worsted-work or knitting," replied Camille.

"But where do you find those deep reflections, those seductive
pictures?"

"Where you find the witty things you say, madame; there is nothing so
easy as to write books, provided you will--"

"Ah! does it depend wholly on the will? I shouldn't have thought it.
Which of your compositions do you prefer?"

"I find it difficult to prefer any of my little kittens."

"I see you are _blasee_ on compliments; there is really nothing new that
one can say."

"I assure you, madame, that I am very sensible to the form which you
give to yours."

The viscountess, anxious not to seem to neglect the marquise, remarked,
looking at Beatrix with a meaning