ness the
hapless Public Prosecutor, to whom the greatest favor had consisted
in clasping Dinah's hand to his heart more tenderly than usual as they
walked, happy man!

And Madame de la Baudraye, to be true to her reputation as a Superior
Woman, tried to console the Manfred of the Press by prophesying such a
future of love as he had not had in his mind.

"You have sought pleasure," said she, "but you have never loved. Believe
me, true love often comes late in life. Remember Monsieur de Gentz, who
fell in love in his old age with Fanny Ellsler, and left the Revolution
of July to take its course while he attended the dancer's rehearsals."

"It seems to me unlikely," replied Lousteau. "I can still believe in
love, but I have ceased to believe in woman. There are in me, I suppose,
certain defects which hinder me from being loved, for I have often been
thrown over. Perhaps I have too strong a feeling for the ideal--like all
men who have looked too closely into reality----"

Madame de la Baudraye at last heard the mind of a man who, flung into
the wittiest Parisian circles, represented to her its most daring
axioms, its almost artless depravity, its advanced convictions; who, if
he were not really superior, acted superiority extremely well. Etienne,
performing before Dinah, had all the success of a first night. _Paquita_
of Sancerre scented the storms, the atmosphere of Paris. She spent one
of the most delightful days of her life with Lousteau and Bianchon, who
told her strange tales about the great men of the day, the anecdotes
which will some day form the _Ana_ of our century; sayings and doings
that were the common talk of Paris, but quite new to her.

Of course, Lousteau spoke very ill of the great female celebrity of Le
Berry, with the obvious intention of flattering Madame de la Baudraye
and leading her into literary confidences, by suggesting that she could
rival so great a writer. This praise intoxicated Madame de la Baudraye;
and Monsieur de Clagny, Monsieur Gravier, and Gatien, all thought her
warmer in her manner to Etienne than she had been on the previous day.
Dinah's three _attaches_ greatly regretted having all gone to Sancerre
to blow the trumpet in honor of the evening at Anzy; nothing, to hear
them, had ever been so brilliant. The Hours had fled on feet so light
that none had marked their pace. The two Parisians they spoke of as
perfect prodigies.

These exaggerated reports loudly proclaimed on the Mall