heatre and the
constitutionally sworn rector. In the first fervor of royalty, during
the year 1816, those who later were called Jesuits were all for the
expulsion of the Abbe Francois from his parish. Du Bousquier, suspected
by Monsieur de Valois of sustaining the priest and being at the bottom
of the theatre intrigues, and on whose back the adroit chevalier would
in any case have put those sins with his customary cleverness, was in
the dock with no lawyer to defend him. Athanase, the only guest loyal
enough to stand by du Bousquier, had not the nerve to emit his ideas
in the presence of those potentates of Alencon, whom in his heart he
thought stupid. None but provincial youths now retain a respectful
demeanor before men of a certain age, and dare neither to censure
nor contradict them. The talk, diminished under the effect of certain
delicious ducks dressed with olives, was falling flat. Mademoiselle
Cormon, feeling the necessity of maintaining it against her own ducks,
attempted to defend du Bousquier, who was being represented as a
pernicious fomenter of intrigues, capable of any trickery.

"As for me," she said, "I thought that Monsieur du Bousquier cared
chiefly for childish things."

Under existing circumstances the remark had enormous success.
Mademoiselle Cormon obtained a great triumph; she brought the nose
of the Princess Goritza flat on the table. The chevalier, who little
expected such an apt remark from his Dulcinea, was so amazed that he
could at first find no words to express his admiration; he applauded
noiselessly, as they do at the Opera, tapping his fingers together to
imitate applause.

"She is adorably witty," he said to Madame Granson. "I always said that
some day she would unmask her batteries."

"In private she is always charming," replied the widow.

"In private, madame, all women have wit," returned the chevalier.

The Homeric laugh thus raised having subsided, Mademoiselle Cormon asked
the reason of her success. Then began the _forte_ of the gossip. Du
Bousquier was depicted as a species of celibate Pere Gigogne, a monster,
who for the last fifteen years had kept the Foundling Hospital supplied.
His immoral habits were at last revealed! these Parisian saturnalias
were the result of them, etc., etc. Conducted by the Chevalier de
Valois, a most able leader of an orchestra of this kind, the opening of
the _cancan_ was magnificent.

"I really don't know," he said, "what should hinder a du