lty pair and account for one, if
not both, of them. But I was too busily engaged with my little
_Communards_. We set these gentry up against a wall and dispose of them
in batches. I have had a good deal of this, but, as I say, it has not
yet become monotonous. Traits of individual character lend it vivacity.
And then, putting aside the exigencies of my profession, I do not know
that anything is to be gained by inviting public scandal. You have an
English proverb to the effect that one should wash one's dirty linen at
home. This I have tried to do, as you cannot but be aware, all along.
If one has had the misfortune to marry Messalina, one learns to be
philosophic. A few lovers more or less, in that connection, what, after
all, does it matter? Indeed, I begin to derive ironical consolation
from the fact of their multiplicity. The existence of one would have
constituted a reflection upon my charms. But a matter of ten, fifteen,
twenty, ceases to be in any degree personal to myself. Only I object to
Destournelle. He is too young, too _rococco_. He represents a descent
in the scale. I prefer _des hommes mures_, generals, ministers,
princes. The devil knows we have had our share of such! Your generosity
to her has saved us from Jews so far, and from _nouveaux riches_, by
relieving the business of commercial aspects. Give her some salutary
advice, therefore, _mon cher_, and if she becomes inconvenient forward
her to Paris. I forgive to seventy-times-seven, being still proud
enough to struggle after an appearance of social and conjugal decency.
_Enfin_ it is a relief to have unburdened myself for once, and you have
been the good genius of my unfortunate _menage_, for which heaven
reward you.--Yours, in true cousinly regard and supreme reliance on
your discretion,

"LUIGI ANGELO FRANCESCO DE VALLORBES."

That this, in any case, had a stamp of sincerity upon it, Richard could
not doubt. It must be admitted that he had long ceased to accept Madame
de Vallorbes' estimate of her husband with unqualified belief. But, be
that as it might, whether he were a consummate, or merely an average,
profligate, one thing was certain that this man trusted him--Richard
Calmady,--and that he--Richard Calmady--had very vilely betrayed that
trust. He stared at the letter, and certain sentences in it seemed to
sear him, even as the branding-iron used on a felon might. This was a
new shame, different to, and greater than, any his deformity had eve