egular promenade of the bridge.
Still, in spite of a kind of spy system, by which no harm is meant,
a provincial habit bred of want of occupation and the restless
inquisitiveness of the principal society, nothing was known for certain
of the newcomer's rank, fortune, or real condition. Only, the owner of
La Grenadiere told one or two of his friends that the name under which
the stranger had signed the lease (her real name, therefore, in all
probability) was Augusta Willemsens, Countess of Brandon. This, of
course, must be her husband's name. Events, which will be narrated in
their place, confirmed this revelation; but it went no further than the
little world of men of business known to the landlord.

So Madame Willemsens was a continual mystery to people of condition.
Hers was no ordinary nature; her manners were simple and delightfully
natural, the tones of her voice were divinely sweet,--this was all that
she suffered others to discover. In her complete seclusion, her sadness,
her beauty so passionately obscured, nay, almost blighted, there was so
much to charm, that several young gentlemen fell in love; but the more
sincere the lover, the more timid he became; and besides, the lady
inspired awe, and it was a difficult matter to find enough courage to
speak to her. Finally, if a few of the bolder sort wrote to her, their
letters must have been burned unread. It was Mme. Willemsens' practice
to throw all the letters which she received into the fire, as if she
meant that the time spent in Touraine should be untroubled by any
outside cares even of the slightest. She might have come to the
enchanting retreat to give herself up wholly to the joy of living.

The three masters whose presence was allowed at La Grenadiere spoke with
something like admiring reverence of the touching picture that they saw
there of the close, unclouded intimacy of the life led by this woman and
the children.

The two little boys also aroused no small interest. Mothers could
not see them without a feeling of envy. Both children were like Mme.
Willemsens, who was, in fact, their mother. They had the transparent
complexion and bright color, the clear, liquid eyes, the long lashes,
the fresh outlines, the dazzling characteristics of childish beauty.

The elder, Louis-Gaston, had dark hair and fearless eyes. Everything
about him spoke as plainly of robust, physical health as his broad, high
brow, with its gracious curves, spoke of energy of charact