tar surmounted by a statue of Napoleon, with this inscription: "What
he began with the sword, I shall achieve with the pen."

When Balzac first met the Duchesse d'Abrantes, she was about forty
years of age. It is probably she whom he describes thus, under the
name of Madame d'Aiglemont, in _La Femme de trente Ans_:

"Madame d'Aiglemont's dress harmonized with the thought that
dominated her person. Her hair was gathered up into a tall coronet
of broad plaits, without ornament of any kind, for she seemed to
have bidden farewell forever to elaborate toilets. Nor were any of
the small arts of coquetry which spoil so many women to be
detected in her. Only her bodice, modest though it was, did not
altogether conceal the dainty grace of her figure. Then, too, the
luxury of her long gown consisted in an extremely distinguished
cut; and if it is permissible to look for expression in the
arrangement of materials, surely the numerous straight folds of
her dress invested her with a great dignity. Moreover, there may
have been some lingering trace of the indelible feminine foible in
the minute care bestowed upon her hand and foot; yet, if she
allowed them to be seen with some pleasure, it would have tasked
the utmost malice of a rival to discover any affectation in her
gestures, so natural did they seem, so much a part of old childish
habit, that her careless grace absolves this vestige of vanity.
All these little characteristics, the nameless trifles which
combine to make up the sum of a woman's beauty or ugliness, her
charm or lack of charm, can not be indicated, especially when the
soul is the bond of all the details and imprints on them a
delightful unity. Her manner was in perfect accord with her figure
and her dress. Only in certain women at a certain age is it given
to put language into their attitude. Is it sorrow, is it happiness
that gives to the woman of thirty, to the happy or unhappy woman,
the secret of this eloquence of carriage? This will always be an
enigma which each interprets by the aid of his hopes, desires, or
theories. The way in which she leaned both elbows on the arm of
her chair, the toying of her inter-clasped fingers, the curve of
her throat, the freedom of her languid but lithesome body which
reclined in graceful exhaustion, the unconstraint of her limbs,
the carelessness of her pose, the utter lassitude of her
movements, all revealed a w