nted Mademoiselle Cormon on the excellence of her
service and the admirable arrangements of the house, remarking that he
had supposed the provinces behind the age in that respect; but, on the
contrary, he found them, as the English say, "very comfortable."

"What can that word mean?" she thought. "Oh, where is the chevalier to
explain it to me? 'Comfortable,'--there seem to be several words in it.
Well, courage!" she said to herself. "I can't be expected to answer a
foreign language--But," she continued aloud, feeling her tongue untied
by the eloquence which nearly all human creatures find in momentous
circumstances, "we have a very brilliant society here, monsieur. It
assembles at my house, and you shall judge of it this evening, for
some of my faithful friends have no doubt heard of my return and your
arrival. Among them is the Chevalier de Valois, a seigneur of the
old court, a man of infinite wit and taste; then there is Monsieur le
Marquis d'Esgrignon and Mademoiselle Armande, his sister" (she bit her
tongue with vexation),--"a woman remarkable in her way," she added. "She
resolved to remain unmarried in order to leave all her fortune to her
brother and nephew."

"Ah!" exclaimed the viscount. "Yes, the d'Esgrignons,--I remember them."

"Alencon is very gay," continued the old maid, now fairly launched.
"There's much amusement: the receiver-general gives balls; the prefect
is an amiable man; and Monseigneur the bishop sometimes honors us with a
visit--"

"Well, then," said the viscount, smiling, "I have done wisely to come
back, like the hare, to die in my form."

"Yes," she said. "I, too, attach myself or I die."

The viscount smiled.

"Ah!" thought the old maid, "all is well; he understands me."

The conversation continued on generalities. By one of those mysterious
unknown and undefinable faculties, Mademoiselle Cormon found in her
brain, under the pressure of her desire to be agreeable, all the phrases
and opinions of the Chevalier de Valois. It was like a duel in which the
devil himself pointed the pistol. Never was any adversary better aimed
at. The viscount was far too well-bred to speak of the excellence of
the dinner; but his silence was praise. As he drank the delicious wines
which Jacquelin served to him profusely, he seemed to feel he was with
friends, and to meet them with pleasure; for the true connoisseur does
not applaud, he enjoys. He inquired the price of land, of houses, of
estates; he ma