overs the lightest inclination to falter in one whose
conduct has hitherto been above reproach, will stoop and pick up out of
the gutter a blighted and tarnished reputation and protect and defend
it against all slights, and devote his life to the attempt to restore
lustre to the unclean thing dulled by the touch of many fingers. In her
days of prosperity Commander de Jars and the king's treasurer had both
fluttered round Mademoiselle de Guerchi, and neither had fluttered in
vain. Short as was the period necessary to overcome her scruples, in as
short a period it dawned on the two candidates for her favour that each
had a successful rival in the other, and that however potent as a reason
for surrender the doubloons of the treasurer had been, the personal
appearance of the commander had proved equally cogent. As both had
felt for her only a passing fancy and not a serious passion, their
explanations with each other led to no quarrel between them; silently
and simultaneously they withdrew from her circle, without even letting
her know they had found her out, but quite determined to revenge,
themselves on her should a chance ever offer. However, other affairs
of a similar nature had intervened to prevent their carrying out this
laudable intention; Jeannin had laid siege to a more inaccessible
beauty, who had refused to listen to his sighs for less than 30 crowns,
paid in advance, and de Jars had become quite absorbed by his adventure
with the convent boarder at La Raquette, and the business of that young
stranger whom he passed off as his nephew. Mademoiselle de Guerchi had
never seen them again; and with her it was out of sight out of mind. At
the moment when she comes into our story she was weaving her toils
round a certain Duc de Vitry, whom she had seen at court, but whose
acquaintance she had never made, and who had been absent when the
scandalous occurrence which led to her disgrace came to light. He was a
man of from twenty-five to twenty-six years of age, who idled his
life away: his courage was undoubted, and being as credulous as an old
libertine, he was ready to draw his sword at any moment to defend the
lady whose cause he had espoused, should any insolent slanderer dare
to hint there was a smirch on her virtue. Being deaf to all reports, he
seemed one of those men expressly framed by heaven to be the consolation
of fallen women; such a man as in our times a retired opera-dancer or a
superannuated professional bea
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