position. Mme de Langeais had attained her end. The
Marquis de Montriveau was among her numerous train of adorers, and a
means of humiliating those who boasted of their progress in her good
graces, for she publicly gave him preference over them all.

"Decidedly, M. de Montriveau is the man for whom the Duchess shows a
preference," pronounced Mme de Serizy.

And who in Paris does not know what it means when a woman "shows a
preference?" All went on therefore according to prescribed rule. The
anecdotes which people were pleased to circulate concerning the General
put that warrior in so formidable a light, that the more adroit quietly
dropped their pretensions to the Duchess, and remained in her train
merely to turn the position to account, and to use her name and
personality to make better terms for themselves with certain stars of
the second magnitude. And those lesser powers were delighted to take a
lover away from Mme de Langeais. The Duchess was keen-sighted enough to
see these desertions and treaties with the enemy; and her pride would
not suffer her to be the dupe of them. As M. de Talleyrand, one of her
great admirers, said, she knew how to take a second edition of revenge,
laying the two-edged blade of a sarcasm between the pairs in these
"morganatic" unions. Her mocking disdain contributed not a little to
increase her reputation as an extremely clever woman and a person to
be feared. Her character for virtue was consolidated while she amused
herself with other people's secrets, and kept her own to herself. Yet,
after two months of assiduities, she saw with a vague dread in the
depths of her soul that M. de Montriveau understood nothing of the
subtleties of flirtation after the manner of the Faubourg Saint-Germain;
he was taking a Parisienne's coquetry in earnest.

"You will not tame _him_, dear Duchess," the old Vidame de Pamiers had
said. "'Tis a first cousin to the eagle; he will carry you off to his
eyrie if you do not take care."

Then Mme de Langeais felt afraid. The shrewd old noble's words sounded
like a prophecy. The next day she tried to turn love to hate. She was
harsh, exacting, irritable, unbearable; Montriveau disarmed her with
angelic sweetness. She so little knew the great generosity of a large
nature, that the kindly jests with which her first complaints were met
went to her heart. She sought a quarrel, and found proofs of affection.
She persisted.

"When a man idolizes you, how can he have