n one another, arranging to read her a homily
and to hold a consultation as to the best way of putting a stop to the
scandal.

At three o'clock, therefore, M. le Duc de Navarreins, the Vidame de
Pamiers, the old Princesse de Blamont-Chauvry, and the Duc de Grandlieu
were assembled in Mme la Duchesse de Langeais' drawing-room. To them, as
to all curious inquirers, the servants said that their mistress was not
at home; the Duchess had made no exceptions to her orders. But these
four personages shone conspicuous in that lofty sphere, of which the
revolutions and hereditary pretensions are solemnly recorded year by
year in the _Almanach de Gotha_, wherefore without some slight sketch of
each of them this picture of society were incomplete.

The Princesse de Blamont-Chauvry, in the feminine world, was a most
poetic wreck of the reign of Louis Quinze. In her beautiful prime, so it
was said, she had done her part to win for that monarch his appellation
of _le Bien-aime_. Of her past charms of feature, little remained save
a remarkably prominent slender nose, curved like a Turkish scimitar, now
the principal ornament of a countenance that put you in mind of an old
white glove. Add a few powdered curls, high-heeled pantoufles, a cap
with upstanding loops of lace, black mittens, and a decided taste for
_ombre_. But to do full justice to the lady, it must be said that she
appeared in low-necked gowns of an evening (so high an opinion of her
ruins had she), wore long gloves, and raddled her cheeks with Martin's
classic rouge. An appalling amiability in her wrinkles, a prodigious
brightness in the old lady's eyes, a profound dignity in her whole
person, together with the triple barbed wit of her tongue, and an
infallible memory in her head, made of her a real power in the land. The
whole Cabinet des Chartes was entered in duplicate on the parchment
of her brain. She knew all the genealogies of every noble house in
Europe--princes, dukes, and counts--and could put her hand on the last
descendants of Charlemagne in the direct line. No usurpation of title
could escape the Princesse de Blamont-Chauvry.

Young men who wished to stand well at Court, ambitious men, and young
married women paid her assiduous homage. Her salon set the tone of the
Faubourg Saint-Germain. The words of this Talleyrand in petticoats
were taken as final decrees. People came to consult her on questions of
etiquette or usages, or to take lessons in good taste. An