ad, she gently shook the
fine, wavy golden hair, with a movement of pride that was natural to her.
After a moment's silence, she said to her aunt in a cutting tone: "You
have spoken of the past, madame; I also will speak a few words concerning
it, since you force me to do so, though I may regret the necessity. I
quitted your dwelling, because it was impossible for me to live longer in
this atmosphere of dark hypocrisy and black treachery."

"Madame," said D'Aigrigny, "such words are as violent as they are
unreasonable."

"Since you interrupt me, sir," said Adrienne, hastily, as she fixed her
eyes on the abbe, "tell me what examples did I meet with in my aunt's
house?"

"Excellent, examples, madame."

"Excellent, sir? Was it because I saw there, every day, her conversion
keep pace with your own?"

"Madame, you forget yourself!" cried the princess, becoming pale with
rage.

"Madame, I do not forget--I remember, like other people; that is all. I
had no relation of whom I could ask an asylum. I wished to live alone. I
wished to enjoy my revenues--because I chose rather to spend them myself,
than to see them wasted by M. Tripeaud."

"Madame," cried the baron, "I cannot imagine how you can presume--"

"Sir!" said Adrienne, reducing him to silence by a gesture of
overwhelming lordliness, "I speak of you--not to you. I wished to spend
my income," she continued, "according to my own tastes. I embellished the
retreat that I had chosen. Instead of ugly, ill-taught servants, I
selected girls, pretty and well brought up, though poor. Their education
forbade their being subjected to any humiliating servitude, though I have
endeavored to make their situation easy and agreeable. They do not serve
me, but render me service--I pay them, but I am obliged to them--nice
distinctions that your highness will not understand, I know. Instead of
seeing them badly or ungracefully dressed, I have given them clothes that
suit their charming faces well, because I like whatever is young and
fair. Whether I dress myself one way or the other, concerns only my
looking-glass. I go out alone, because I like to follow my fancy. I do
not go to mass--but, if I had still a mother, I would explain to her my
devotions, and she would kiss me none the less tenderly. It is true, that
I have raised a pagan altar to youth and beauty, because I adore God in
all that He has made fair and good, noble and grand--because, morn and
evening, my heart repeats the