her arm, rode in his carriage, and accompanied him in all his drives; she even persuaded him that she liked the smell of tobacco, and read him his favorite paper La Quotidienne in the midst of clouds of smoke, which the malicious old sailor intentionally blew over her; she learned piquet to be a match for the old count; and this fantastic damsel even listened without impatience to his periodical narratives of the battles of the Belle-Poule, the manoeuvres of the Ville de Paris, M. de Suffren’s first expedition, or the battle of Aboukir.
Though the old sailor had often said that he knew his longitude and latitude too well to allow himself to be captured by a young corvette, one fine morning Paris drawing-rooms heard the news of the marriage of Mademoiselle de Fontaine to the Comte de Kergarouet. The young Countess gave splendid entertainments to drown thought; but she, no doubt, found a void at the bottom of the whirlpool; luxury was ineffectual to disguise the emptiness and grief of her sorrowing soul; for the most part, in spite of the flashes of assumed gaiety, her beautiful face expressed unspoken melancholy. Emilie appeared, however, full of attentions and consideration for her old husband, who, on retiring to his rooms at night, to the sounds of a lively band, would often say, “I do not know myself. Was I to wait till the age of seventy-two to embark as pilot on board the Belle Emilie after twenty years of matrimonial galleys?”
The conduct of the young Countess was marked by such strictness that the most clear-sighted criticism had no fault to find with her. Lookers on chose to think that the vice-admiral had reserved the right of disposing of his fortune to keep his wife more tightly in hand; but this was a notion as insulting to the uncle as to the niece. Their conduct was indeed so delicately judicious that the men who were most interested in guessing the secrets of the couple could never decide whether the old Count regarded her as a wife or as a daughter. He was often heard to say that he had rescued his niece as a castaway after shipwreck; and that, for his part, he had never taken a mean advantage of hospitality when he had saved an enemy from the fury of the storm. Though the Countess aspired to reign in Paris and tried to keep pace with Mesdames the Duchesses de Maufrigneuse and du Chaulieu, the Marquises d’Espard and d’Aiglemont, the Comtesses Feraud, de Montcornet, and de Restaud, Madame de Camps, and Mademoiselle des Touches, she did not yield to the addresses of the young Vicomte de Portenduere, who made her his idol.
Two years after her marriage, in one of the old drawing-rooms in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, where she was admired for her character, worthy of the old school, Emilie heard the Vicomte de Longueville announced. In the corner of the room where she was sitting, playing piquet with the Bishop of Persepolis, her agitation was not observed; she turned her head and saw her former lover come in, in all the freshness of youth. His father’s death, and then that of his brother, killed by the severe climate of Saint-Petersburg, had placed on Maximilien’s head the hereditary plumes of the French peer’s hat. His fortune matched his learning and his merits; only the day before his youthful and fervid eloquence had dazzled the Assembly. At this moment he stood before the Countess, free, and graced with all the advantages she had formerly required of her ideal. Every mother with a daughter to marry made amiable advances to a man gifted with the virtues which they attributed to him, as they admired his attractive person; but Emilie knew, better than any one, that the Vicomte de Longueville had the steadfast nature in which a wise woman sees a guarantee of happiness. She looked at the admiral who, to use his favorite expression, seemed likely to hold his course for a long time yet, and cursed the follies of her youth.
At this moment Monsieur de Persepolis said with Episcopal grace: “Fair lady, you have thrown away the king of hearts — I have won. But do not regret your money. I keep it for my little seminaries.”
PARIS, December 1829.
CONTENTS
I. LOUISE DE CHAULIEU TO RENEE DE MAUCOMBE. PARIS, September.
II. THE SAME TO THE SAME November 25th.
III. THE SAME TO THE SAME December.
IV. THE SAME TO THE SAME December 15th.
V. RENEE DE MAUCOMBE TO LOUISE DE CHAULIEU October.
VI. DON FELIPE HENAREZ TO DON FERNAND PARIS, September.
VII. LOUISE DE CHAULIEU TO RENEE DE MAUCOMBE
VIII. THE SAME TO THE SAME January.
IX. MME. DE L’ESTORADE TO MLLE. DE CHAULIEU. December.
X. MLLE. DE CHAULIEU TO MME. DE L’ESTORADE January.
XI. MME. DE L’ESTORADE TO MLLE. DE CHAULIEU La Crampade.
XII. MLLE. DE CHAULIEU TO MME. DE L’ESTORADE February.
XIII. MME. DE L’ESTORADE TO MLLE. DE CHAULIEU LA CRAMPADE, February.
XIV. THE DUC DE SORIA TO THE BARON DE MACUMER MADRID.
XV. LOUISE DE CHAULIEU TO MME. DE L’ESTORADE March.
XVI. THE SAME TO THE SAME March.
XVII. THE SAME TO THE SAME April 2nd.
XVIII. MME. DE L’ESTORADE TO LOUISE DE CHAULIEU April.
XIX. LOUISE DE CHAULIEU TO MME. DE L’ESTORADE
XX. RENEE DE L’ESTORADE TO LOUISE DE CHAULIEU May.
XXI. LOUISE DE CHAULIEU TO RENEE DE L’ESTORADE June.
XXIV. LOUISE DE CHAULIEU TO RENEE DE L’ESTORADE October.
XXV. RENEE DE L’ESTORADE TO LOUISE DE CHAULIEU
XXVI. LOUISE DE MACUMER TO RENEE DE L’ESTORADE March.