which the King had adopted.
But the Marquis could not bring himself to give up the Frenchman's
knee-breeches nor yet the white silk stockings or the buckles at the
knees. After six o'clock in the evening he appeared in full dress.

He read no newspapers but the Quotidienne and the Gazette de France, two
journals accused by the Constitutional press of obscurantist views and
uncounted "monarchical and religious" enormities; while the Marquis
d'Esgrignon, on the other hand, found heresies and revolutionary
doctrines in every issue. No matter to what extremes the organs of this
or that opinion may go, they will never go quite far enough to please
the purists on their own side; even as the portrayer of this magnificent
personage is pretty certain to be accused of exaggeration, whereas he
has done his best to soften down some of the cruder tones and dim the
more startling tints of the original.

The Marquis d'Esgrignon rested his elbows on his knees and leant
his head on his hands. During his meditations Mlle. Armande and the
Chevalier looked at one another without uttering the thoughts in their
minds. Was he pained by the discovery that his son's future must
depend upon his sometime land steward? Was he doubtful of the reception
awaiting the young Count? Did he regret that he had made no preparation
for launching his heir into that brilliant world of court? Poverty had
kept him in the depths of his province; how should he have appeared at
court? He sighed heavily as he raised his head.

That sigh, in those days, came from the real aristocracy all over
France; from the loyal provincial noblesse, consigned to neglect with
most of those who had drawn sword and braved the storm for the cause.

"What have the Princes done for the du Guenics, or the Fontaines, or
the Bauvans, who never submitted?" he muttered to himself. "They fling
miserable pensions to the men who fought most bravely, and give them
a royal lieutenancy in a fortress somewhere on the outskirts of the
kingdom."

Evidently the Marquis doubted the reigning dynasty. Mlle. d'Esgrignon
was trying to reassure her brother as to the prospects of the journey,
when a step outside on the dry narrow footway gave them notice of
Chesnel's coming. In another moment Chesnel appeared; Josephin, the
Count's gray-aired valet, admitted the notary without announcing him.

"Chesnel, my boy----" (Chesnel was a white-haired man of sixty-nine,
with a square-jawed, venerable countenan