ween the mother of the bride and
the housekeeper at the castle. But, on the other hand, this fact might
have led to very different surmises still.

However that might be, the count was not suffered long to remain in
doubt as to the entire change of opinion in the neighborhood. He saw it
as soon as he paid the usual visits in the town of Angers, and at the
houses of the nobility near him. No more affectionate smiles, no tender
welcomes, no little white hands stealthily seeking his. The doors that
formerly seemed to fly open at his mere approach now turned but slowly
on their hinges; some remained even closed, the owners being reported
not at home, although the count knew perfectly well that they were in.

One very noble and very pious old lady, who gave the keynote to society,
had said in the most decided manner,--

"For my part, I shall never receive at my house a damsel who used to
give music-lessons to my nieces, even if she had caught and entrapped a
Bourbon!"

The charge was true. Pauline, in order to provide her mother with some
of the comforts which are almost indispensable to old people, had given
lessons on the piano in the neighborhood. Her terms had been low enough;
now they blamed her for the sacrifice. They would have blamed her for
the noblest of virtues; for all the blame was laid upon her. When people
met her, they looked away, so as not to have to bow to her. Even when
she was leaning on the count's arm, there were persons who spoke very
kindly to him, and did not say a word to his wife, as if they had not
seen her, or she had not existed at all. This impertinence went so far,
that at last Count Ville-Handry, one day, almost beside himself with
anger, seized one of his neighbors by the collar of his coat, shook him
violently, and shouted out to him,--

"Do you see the countess, my wife, sir? How shall I chastise you to cure
you of your near-sightedness?"

Foreseeing a duel, the impertinent man made his excuses; and his
experience put the rest of them on their guard. But their opinions
remained unchanged; open war only changed into secret opposition, that
was all.

Fate, however, always more kind than man, held a reward in store for
Count Ville-Handry, which amply repaid him for his heroism in marrying
a poor girl. An uncle of his wife's, a banker at Dresden, died, and
left his "beloved niece Pauline" half a million dollars. This immensely
wealthy man, who had never assisted his sister in her trou