urtyard of the old Louvre, and over which the words may still be
seen, "_Bibliotheque du Cabinet du Roi_." This shield bore the arms of
the noble House of Uxelles, namely, Or and gules party per fess, with
two lions or, dexter and sinister as supporters. Above, a knight's
helm, mantled of the tincture of the shield, and surmounted by a ducal
coronet. Motto, _Cy paroist!_ A proud and sonorous device.

"I want to put my own coat of arms in the place of that of the Uxelles;
and as they are repeated six times on the two fronts and the two wings,
it is not a trifling affair."

"Your arms, so new, and since 1830!" exclaimed Dinah.

"Have I not created an entail?"

"I could understand it if you had children," said the journalist.

"Oh!" said the old man, "Madame de la Baudraye is still young; there is
no time lost."

This allusion made Lousteau smile; he did not understand Monsieur de la
Baudraye.

"There, Didine!" said he in Dinah's ear, "what a waste of remorse!"

Dinah begged him to give her one day more, and the lovers parted after
the manner of certain theatres, which give ten last performances of a
piece that is paying. And how many promises they made! How many solemn
pledges did not Dinah exact and the unblushing journalist give her!

Dinah, with superiority of the Superior Woman, accompanied Lousteau, in
the face of all the world, as far as Cosne, with her mother and little
La Baudraye. When, ten days later, Madame de la Baudraye saw in her
drawing-room at La Baudraye, Monsieur de Clagny, Gatien, and Gravier,
she found an opportunity of saying to each in turn:

"I owe it to Monsieur Lousteau that I discovered that I had not been
loved for my own sake."

And what noble speeches she uttered, on man, on the nature of his
feelings, on the end of his base passions, and so forth. Of Dinah's
three worshipers, Monsieur de Clagny only said to her: "I love you, come
what may"--and Dinah accepted him as her confidant, lavished on him all
the marks of friendship which women can devise for the Gurths who are
ready thus to wear the collar of gilded slavery.

In Paris once more, Lousteau had, in a few weeks, lost the impression of
the happy time he had spent at the Chateau d'Anzy. This is why: Lousteau
lived by his pen.

In this century, especially since the triumph of the _bourgeoisie_--the
commonplace, money-saving citizen--who takes good care not to imitate
Francis I. or Louis XIV.--to live by the pen is a form