h other.

Such is the manner in which the middle of the day usually passes off.

In the morning, I ride on horseback with the marquis, who is kind enough
to spare me the crowd and tumult of the general riding-parties. In the
evening, I take a hand at whist, then I chat a while with the ladies, and
I try my best to cast off at their feet my bear's skin and reputation; for
I dislike to display any eccentricity of my own, this one rather more so
than any other. There is in a grave disposition, when carried to the point
of stiffness and ill-grace toward women, something coarsely pedantic, that
is unbecoming in great talents and ridiculous in lesser ones. I retire
afterward, and I work rather late in the library. That's the best of my
day.

The society at the chateau is usually made up of the marquis' guests, who
are always numerous at this season, and of a few persons of the
neighborhood. The object of these entertainments on a grand scale is,
above all, to celebrate the visit of Monsieur de Malouet's only daughter,
who comes every year to spend the autumn with her family. She is a person
of statuesque beauty, who amuses herself with queenly dignity, and who
communicates with ordinary mortals by means of contemptuous mono-syllables
uttered in a deep bass voice. She married, some twelve years ago, an
Englishman, a member of the diplomatic corps, Lord A----, a personage
equally handsome and impassive as herself. He addresses at intervals to
his wife an English monosyllable, to which the latter replies
imperturbably with a French monosyllable. Nevertheless, three little
lords, worthy the pencil of Lawrence, who strut majestically around this
Olympian couple, attest between the two nations a secret intelligence
which escapes the vulgar observer.

A scarcely less remarkable couple comes over to us daily from a
neighboring chateau. The husband is one Monsiuer de Breuilly, formerly an
officer in King Charles X's body-guards, and a bosom friend of the
marquis. He is a very lively old man, still quite fine-looking, and
wearing over close-cropped gray hair a hat too small for his head. He has
an odd, though perhaps natural, way of scanning his words, and of speaking
with a degree of deliberation that seems affected. He would be quite
pleasant, however, were it not that his mind is constantly tortured by an
ardent jealousy, and by a no less ardent apprehension of betraying his
weakness, which, nevertheless, is a glaring and obvious