The news of Mademoiselle Cormon's choice stabbed poor Athanase Granso to the heart; but he showed no outward sign of the terrible agitatio within him. When he first heard of the marriage he was at the house o the chief-justice, du Ronceret, where his mother was playing boston Madame Granson looked at her son in a mirror, and thought him pale but he had been so all day, for a vague rumor of the matter had alread reached him

Mademoiselle Cormon was the card on which Athanase had staked his life and the cold presentiment of a catastrophe was already upon him. Whe the soul and the imagination have magnified a misfortune and made i too heavy for the shoulders and the brain to bear; when a hope lon cherished, the realization of which would pacify the vulture feeding o the heart, is balked, and the man has faith neither in himself, despit his powers, nor in the future, despite of the Divine power,--then tha man is lost. Athanase was a fruit of the Imperial system of education Fatality, the Emperor's religion, had filtered down from the throne t the lowest ranks of the army and the benches of the lyceums. Athanas sat still, with his eyes fixed on Madame du Ronceret's cards, in stupor that might so well pass for indifference that Madame Granso herself was deceived about his feelings. This apparent unconcer explained her son's refusal to make a sacrifice for this marriage of hi _liberal_ opinions,--the term "liberal" having lately been created fo the Emperor Alexander by, I think, Madame de Stael, through the lips o Benjamin Constant

After that fatal evening the young man took to rambling among th picturesque regions of the Sarthe, the banks of which are muc frequented by sketchers who come to Alencon for points of view Windmills are there, and the river is gay in the meadows. The shores o the Sarthe are bordered with beautiful trees, well grouped. Thoug the landscape is flat, it is not without those modest graces whic distinguish France, where the eye is never wearied by the brilliancy o Oriental skies, nor saddened by constant fog. The place is solitary. I the provinces no one pays much attention to a fine view, either becaus provincials are blases on the beauty around them, or because they hav no poesy in their souls. If there exists in the provinces a mall, promenade, a vantage-ground from which a fine view can be obtained, tha is the point to which no one goes. Athanase was fond of this solitude enlivened by the sparkling water, where the fields were the first t green under the earliest smiling of the springtide sun. Those person who saw him sitting beneath a poplar, and who noticed the vacant ey which he turned to them, would say to Madame Granson:-

"Something is the matter with your son.

"I know what it is," the mother would reply; hinting that he wa meditating over some great work

Athanase no longer took part in politics: he ceased to have opinions but he appeared at times quite gay,--gay with the satire of those wh think to insult a whole world with their own individual scorn. Thi young man, outside of all the ideas and all the pleasures of th provinces, interested few persons; he was not even an object o curiosity. If persons spoke of him to his mother, it was for her sake not his. There was not a single soul in Alencon that sympathized wit his; not a woman, not a friend came near to dry his tears; they droppe into the Sarthe. If the gorgeous Suzanne had happened that way, how man young miseries might have been born of the meeting! for the two woul surely have loved each other

She did come, however. Suzanne's ambition was early excited by the tal of a strange adventure which had happened at the tavern of the More,-- tale which had taken possession of her childish brain. A Parisian woman beautiful as the angels, was sent by Fouche to entangle the Marqui de Montauran, otherwise called "The Gars," in a love-affair (see "Th Chouans"). She met him at the tavern of the More on his return from a expedition to Mortagne; she cajoled him, made him love her, and the betrayed him. That fantastic power--the power of beauty over mankind in fact, the whole story of Marie de Verneuil and the Gars--dazzle Suzanne; she longed to grow up in order to play upon men. Some month after her hasty departure she passed through her native town with a artist on his way to Brittany. She wanted to see Fougeres, where th adventure of the Marquis de Montauran culminated, and to stand upon th scene of that picturesque war, the tragedies of which, still so littl known, had filled her childish mind. Besides this, she had a fancy t pass through Alencon so elegantly equipped that no one could recogniz her; to put her mother above the reach of necessity, and also to send t poor Athanase, in a delicate manner, a sum of money,--which in our ag is to genius what in the middle ages was the charger and the coat o mail that Rebecca conveyed to Ivanhoe

One month passed away in the strangest uncertainties respecting th marriage of Mademoiselle Cormon. A party of unbelievers denied th marriage altogether; the believers, on the other hand, affirmed it. A the end of two weeks, the faction of unbelief received a vigorous blo in the sale of du Bousquier's house to the Marquis de Troisville, wh only wanted a simple establishment in Alencon, intending to go to Pari after the death of the Princess Scherbellof; he proposed to await tha inheritance in retirement, and then to reconstitute his estates. Thi seemed positive. The unbelievers, however, were not crushed. The declared that du Bousquier, married or not, had made an excellen sale, for the house had only cost him twenty-seven thousand francs The believers were depressed by this practical observation of th incredulous. Choisnel, Mademoiselle Cormon's notary, asserted th latter, had heard nothing about the marriage contract; but th believers, still firm in their faith, carried off, on the twentieth day a signal victory: Monsieur Lepressoir, the notary of the liberals, wen to Mademoiselle Cormon's house, and the contract was signed

This was the first of the numerous sacrifices which Mademoiselle Cormo was destined to make to her husband. Du Bousquier bore the deepes hatred to Choisnel; to him he owed the refusal of the hand o Mademoiselle Armande,--a refusal which, as he believed, had influence that of Mademoiselle Cormon. This circumstance alone made the marriag drag along. Mademoiselle received several anonymous letters. Sh learned, to her great astonishment, that Suzanne was as truly a virgi as herself so far as du Bousquier was concerned, for that seduce with the false toupet could never be the hero of any such adventure Mademoiselle Cormon disdained anonymous letters; but she wrote t Suzanne herself, on the ground of enlightening the Maternity Society Suzanne, who had no doubt heard of du Bousquier's proposed marriage acknowledged her trick, sent a thousand francs to the society, and di all the harm she could to the old purveyor. Mademoiselle Cormon convoke the Maternity Society, which held a special meeting at which it wa voted that the association would not in future assist any misfortune about to happen, but solely those that had happened

In spite of all these various events which kept the town in the choices gossip, the banns were published in the churches and at the mayor' office. Athanase prepared the deeds. As a matter of propriety and publi decency, the bride retired to Prebaudet, where du Bousquier, bearin sumptuous and horrible bouquets, betook himself every morning, returnin home for dinner

At last, on a dull and rainy morning in June, the marriage o Mademoiselle Cormon and the Sieur du Bousquier took place at noon in th parish church of Alencon, in sight of the whole town. The bridal pai went from their own house to the mayor's office, and from the mayor' office to the church in an open caleche, a magnificent vehicle fo Alencon, which du Bousquier had sent for secretly to Paris. The loss o the old carriole was a species of calamity in the eyes of the community The harness-maker of the Porte de Seez bemoaned it, for he lost th fifty francs a year which it cost in repairs. Alencon saw with alar the possibility of luxury being thus introduced into the town. Ever one feared a rise in the price of rents and provisions, and a comin invasion of Parisian furniture. Some persons were sufficiently pricke by curiosity to give ten sous to Jacquelin to allow them a clos inspection of the vehicle which threatened to upset the whole econom of the region. A pair of horses, bought in Normandie, were also mos alarming

"If we bought our own horses," said the Ronceret circle, "we couldn' sell them to those who come to buy.

Stupid as it was, this reasoning seemed sound; for surely such a cours would prevent the region from grasping the money of foreigners. In th eyes of the provinces wealth consisted less in the rapid turning ove of money than in sterile accumulation. It may be mentioned here tha Penelope succumbed to a pleurisy which she acquired about six week before the marriage; nothing could save her

Madame Granson, Mariette, Madame du Coudrai, Madame du Ronceret, an through them the whole town, remarked that Madame du Bousquier entere the church _with her left foot_,--an omen all the more dreadful becaus the term Left was beginning to acquire a political meaning. The pries whose duty it was to read the opening formula opened his book by chanc at the De Profundis. Thus the marriage was accompanied by circumstance so fateful, so alarming, so annihilating that no one dared to augur wel of it. Matters, in fact, went from bad to worse. There was no weddin party; the married pair departed immediately for Prebaudet. Parisia customs, said the community, were about to triumph over time-honore provincial ways

The marriage of Jacquelin and Josette now took place: it was gay; an they were the only two persons in Alencon who refuted the siniste prophecies relating to the marriage of their mistress

Du Bousquier determined to use the proceeds of the sale of his lat residence in restoring and modernizing the hotel Cormon. He decided t remain through two seasons at Prebaudet, and took the Abbe de Spond with them. This news spread terror through the town, where ever individual felt that du Bousquier was about to drag the community int the fatal path of "comfort." This fear increased when the inhabitant of Alencon saw the bridegroom driving in from Prebaudet one morning t inspect his works, in a fine tilbury drawn by a new horse, having Ren at his side in livery. The first act of his administration had been t place his wife's savings on the Grand-Livre, which was then quoted at 6 fr. 50 cent. In the space of one year, during which he played constantl for a rise, he made himself a personal fortune almost as considerable a that of his wife

But all these foreboding prophecies, these perturbing innovations, wer superseded and surpassed by an event connected with this marriage whic gave a still more fatal aspect to it

On the very evening of the ceremony, Athanase and his mother wer sitting, after their dinner, over a little fire of fagots, which th servant lighted usually at dessert

"Well, we will go this evening to the du Roncerets', inasmuch as we hav lost Mademoiselle Cormon," said Madame Granson. "Heavens! how shall ever accustom myself to call her Madame du Bousquier! that name burns m lips.

Athanase looked at his mother with a constrained and melancholy air; h could not smile; but he seemed to wish to welcome that naive sentimen which soothed his wound, though it could not cure his anguish

"Mamma," he said, in the voice of his childhood, so tender was it, an using the name he had abandoned for several years,--"my dear mamma, d not let us go out just yet; it is so pleasant here before the fire.

The mother heard, without comprehending, that supreme prayer of a morta sorrow

"Yes, let us stay, my child," she said. "I like much better to tal with you and listen to your projects than to play at boston and lose m money.

"You are so handsome to-night I love to look at you. Besides, I am i a current of ideas which harmonize with this poor little salon where w have suffered so much.

"And where we shall still suffer, my poor Athanase, until your work succeed. For myself, I am trained to poverty; but you, my treasure! t see your youth go by without a joy! nothing but toil for my poor bo in life! That thought is like an illness to a mother; it tortures m at night; it wakes me in the morning. O God! what have I done? for wha crime dost thou punish me thus?

She left her sofa, took a little chair, and sat close to Athanase, so a to lay her head on the bosom of her child. There is always the grace o love in true motherhood. Athanase kissed her on the eyes, on he gray hair, on her forehead, with the sacred desire of laying his sou wherever he applied his lips

"I shall never succeed," he said, trying to deceive his mother as to th fatal resolution he was revolving in his mind

"Pooh! don't get discouraged. As you often say, thought can do al things. With ten bottles of ink, ten reams of paper, and his powerfu will, Luther upset all Europe. Well, you'll make yourself famous; yo will do good things by the same means which he used to do evil things Haven't you said so yourself? For my part, I listen to you; I understan you a great deal more than you think I do,--for I still bear you in m bosom, and your every thought still stirs me as your slightest motio did in other days.

"I shall never succeed here, mamma; and I don't want you to witness th sight of my struggles, my misery, my anguish. Oh, mother, let me leav Alencon! I want to suffer away from you.

"And I wish to be at your side," replied his mother, proudly. "Suffe without your mother!--that poor mother who would be your servant i necessary; who will efface herself rather than injure you; your mother who will never shame you. No, no, Athanase; we must not part.

Athanase clung to his mother with the ardor of a dying man who clings t life

"But I wish it, nevertheless. If not, you will lose me; this doubl grief, yours and mine, is killing me. You would rather I lived tha died?

Madame Granson looked at her son with a haggard eye

"So this is what you have been brooding?" she said. "They told me right Do you really mean to go?

"Yes.

"You will not go without telling me; without warning me? You must hav an outfit and money. I have some louis sewn into my petticoat; I shal give them to you.

Athanase wept

"That's all I wanted to tell you," he said. "Now I'll take you to the d Roncerets'. Come.

The mother and the son went out. Athanase left his mother at the door o the house where she intended to pass the evening. He looked long at th light which came through the shutters; he clung closely to the wall, an a frenzied joy came over him when he presently heard his mother say, "H has great independence of heart.

"Poor mother! I have deceived her," he cried, as he made his way to th Sarthe

He reached the noble poplar beneath which he had meditated so much fo the last forty days, and where he had placed two heavy stones on whic he now sat down. He contemplated that beautiful nature lighted by th moon; he reviewed once more the glorious future he had longed for he passed through towns that were stirred by his name; he heard th applauding crowds; he breathed the incense of his fame; he adored tha life long dreamed of; radiant, he sprang to radiant triumphs; he raise his stature; he evoked his illusions to bid them farewell in a las Olympic feast. The magic had been potent for a moment; but now i vanished forever. In that awful hour he clung to the beautiful tre to which, as to a friend, he had attached himself; then he put the tw stones into the pockets of his overcoat, which he buttoned across hi breast. He had come intentionally without a hat. He now went to the dee pool he had long selected, and glided into it resolutely, trying to mak as little noise as possible, and, in fact, making scarcely any

When, at half-past nine o'clock, Madame Granson returned home, he servant said nothing of Athanase, but gave her a letter. She opened i and read these few words,-

"My good mother, I have departed; don't be angry with me.

"A pretty trick he has played me!" she thought. "And his linen! and th money! Well, he will write to me, and then I'll follow him. Thes poor children think they are so much cleverer than their fathers an mothers.

And she went to bed in peace

During the preceding morning the Sarthe had risen to a height foresee by the fisherman. These sudden rises of muddy water brought eels fro their various runlets. It so happened that a fisherman had spread hi net at the very place where poor Athanase had flung himself, believin that no one would ever find him. About six o'clock in the morning th man drew in his net, and with it the young body. The few friends o the poor mother took every precaution in preparing her to receiv the dreadful remains. The news of this suicide made, as may well b supposed, a great excitement in Alencon. The poor young man of geniu had no protector the night before, but on the morrow of his death thousand voices cried aloud, "I would have helped him." It is so eas and convenient to be charitable gratis

The suicide was explained by the Chevalier de Valois. He revealed, i a spirit of revenge, the artless, sincere, and genuine love of Athanas for Mademoiselle Cormon. Madame Granson, enlightened by the chevalier remembered a thousand little circumstances which confirmed th chevalier's statement. The story then became touching, and many wome wept over it. Madame Granson's grief was silent, concentrated, an little understood. There are two forms of mourning for mothers. Ofte the world can enter fully into the nature of their loss: their son admired, appreciated, young, perhaps handsome, with a noble path befor him, leading to fortune, possibly to fame, excites universal regret society joins in the grief, and alleviates while it magnifies it. Bu there is another sorrow of mothers who alone know what their child wa really; who alone have received his smiles and observed the treasures o a life too soon cut short. That sorrow hides its woe, the blacknes of which surpasses all other mourning; it cannot be described; happil there are but few women whose heart-strings are thus severed

Before Madame du Bousquier returned to town, Madame du Ronceret, one o her good friends, had driven out to Prebaudet to fling this corpse upo the roses of her joy, to show her the love she had ignored, and sweetl shed a thousand drops of wormwood into the honey of her bridal month As Madame du Bousquier drove back to Alencon, she chanced to meet Madam Granson at the corner of the rue Val-Noble. The glance of the mother dying of her grief, struck to the heart of the poor woman. A thousan maledictions, a thousand flaming reproaches, were in that look: Madam du Bousquier was horror-struck; that glance predicted and called dow evil upon her head

The evening after the catastrophe, Madame Granson, one of the person most opposed to the rector of the town, and who had hitherto supporte the minister of Saint-Leonard, began to tremble as she thought of th inflexible Catholic doctrines professed by her own party. After placin her son's body in its shroud with her own hands, thinking of the mothe of the Saviour, she went, with a soul convulsed by anguish, to the hous of the hated rector. There she found the modest priest in an outer room engaged in putting away the flax and yarns with which he supplied poo women, in order that they might never be wholly out of work,--a for of charity which saved many who were incapable of begging from actua penury. The rector left his yarns and hastened to take Madame Granso into his dining-room, where the wretched mother noticed, as she looke at his supper, the frugal method of his own living

"Monsieur l'abbe," she said, "I have come to implore you--" She burs into tears, unable to continue

"I know what brings you," replied the saintly man. "I must trust to you madame, and to your relation, Madame du Bousquier, to pacify Monseigneu the Bishop at Seez. Yes, I will pray for your unhappy child; yes, I wil say the masses. But we must avoid all scandal, and give no opportunit for evil-judging persons to assemble in the church. I alone, withou other clergy, at night--

"Yes, yes, as you think best; if only he may lie in consecrated ground, said the poor mother, taking the priest's hand and kissing it

Toward midnight a coffin was clandestinely borne to the parish church b four young men, comrades whom Athanase had liked the best. A few friend of Madame Granson, women dressed in black, and veiled, were present; an half a dozen other young men who had been somewhat intimate with thi lost genius. Four torches flickered on the coffin, which was covere with crape. The rector, assisted by one discreet choirboy, said th mortuary mass. Then the body of the suicide was noiselessly carried to corner of the cemetery, where a black wooden cross, without inscription was all that indicated its place hereafter to the mother. Athanase live and died in shadow. No voice was raised to blame the rector; the bisho kept silence. The piety of the mother redeemed the impiety of the son' last act

Some months later, the poor woman, half beside herself with grief, an moved by one of those inexplicable thirsts which misery feels to stee its lips in the bitter chalice, determined to see the spot where her so was drowned. Her instinct may have told her that thoughts of his coul be recovered beneath that poplar; perhaps, too, she desired to se what his eyes had seen for the last time. Some mothers would die of th sight; others give themselves up to it in saintly adoration. Patien anatomists of human nature cannot too often enunciate the truths befor which all educations, laws, and philosophical systems must give way Let us repeat continually: it is absurd to force sentiments into on formula: appearing as they do, in each individual man, they combine wit the elements that form his nature and take his own physiognomy

Madame Granson, as she stood on that fatal spot, saw a woman approac it, who exclaimed,-

"Was it here?

That woman wept as the mother wept. It was Suzanne. Arriving tha morning at the hotel du More, she had been told of the catastrophe. I poor Athanase had been living, she meant to do as many noble souls who are moneyless, dream of doing, and as the rich never think o doing,--she meant to have sent him several thousand francs, writing u the envelope the words: "Money due to your father from a comrade wh makes restitution to you." This tender scheme had been arranged b Suzanne during her journey

The courtesan caught sight of Madame Granson and moved rapidly away whispering as she passed her, "I loved him!

Suzanne, faithful to her nature, did not leave Alencon on this occasio without changing the orange-blossoms of the bride to rue. She was th first to declare that Madame du Bousquier would never be anything bu Mademoiselle Cormon. With one stab of her tongue she revenged poo Athanase and her dear chevalier

Alencon now witnessed a suicide that was slower and quite differentl pitiful from that of poor Athanase, who was quickly forgotten b society, which always makes haste to forget its dead. The poor Chevalie de Valois died in life; his suicide was a daily occurrence for fourtee years. Three months after the du Bousquier marriage society remarked not without astonishment, that the linen of the chevalier was frayed an rusty, that his hair was irregularly combed and brushed. With a frows head the Chevalier de Valois could no longer be said to exist! A fe of his ivory teeth deserted, though the keenest observers of human lif were unable to discover to what body they had hitherto belonged, whethe to a foreign legion or whether they were indigenous, vegetable o animal; whether age had pulled them from the chevalier's mouth, o whether they were left forgotten in the drawer of his dressing-table The cravat was crooked, indifferent to elegance. The negroes' heads gre pale with dust and grease. The wrinkles of the face were blackened an puckered; the skin became parchment. The nails, neglected, were ofte seen, alas! with a black velvet edging. The waistcoat was tracked an stained with droppings which spread upon its surface like autumn leaves The cotton in the ears was seldom changed. Sadness reigned upon tha brow, and slipped its yellowing tints into the depths of each furrow In short, the ruins, hitherto so cleverly hidden, now showed through th cracks and crevices of that fine edifice, and proved the power of th soul over the body; for the fair and dainty man, the cavalier, the youn blood, died when hope deserted him. Until then the nose of the chevalie was ever delicate and nice; never had a damp black blotch, nor an ambe drop fall from it; but now that nose, smeared with tobacco around th nostrils, degraded by the driblets which took advantage of the natura gutter placed between itself and the upper lip,--that nose, which n longer cared to seem agreeable, revealed the infinite pains whic the chevalier had formerly taken with his person, and made observer comprehend, by the extent of its degradation, the greatness an persistence of the man's designs upon Mademoiselle Cormon

Alas, too, the anecdotes went the way of the teeth; the clever saying grew rare. The appetite, however, remained; the old nobleman save nothing but his stomach from the wreck of his hopes; though he languidl prepared his pinches of snuff, he ate alarming dinners. Perhaps you wil more fully understand the disaster that this marriage was to the min and heart of the chevalier when you learn that his intercourse with th Princess Goritza became less frequent

One day he appeared in Mademoiselle Armande's salon with the calf o his leg on the shin-bone. This bankruptcy of the graces was, I do assur you, terrible, and struck all Alencon with horror. The late young ma had become an old one; this human being, who, by the breaking-dow of his spirit, had passed at once from fifty to ninety years of age frightened society. Besides, his secret was betrayed; he had waited an watched for Mademoiselle Cormon; he had, like a patient hunter, adjuste his aim for ten whole years, and finally had missed the game! In short the impotent Republic had won the day from Valiant Chivalry, and that too, under the Restoration! Form triumphed; mind was vanquished b matter, diplomacy by insurrection. And, O final blow! a mortifie grisette revealed the secret of the chevalier's mornings, and he no passed for a libertine. The liberals cast at his door all the foundling hitherto attributed to du Bousquier. But the faubourg Saint-Germain o Alencon accepted them proudly: it even said, "That poor chevalier, wha else could he do?" The faubourg pitied him, gathered him closer to thei circle, and brought back a few rare smiles to his face; but frightfu enmity was piled upon the head of du Bousquier. Eleven persons deserte the Cormon salon, and passed to that of the d'Esgrignons

The old maid's marriage had a signal effect in defining the two partie in Alencon. The salon d'Esgrignon represented the upper aristocrac (the returning Troisvilles attached themselves to it); the Cormon salo represented, under the clever influence of du Bousquier, that fata class of opinions which, without being truly liberal or resolutel royalist, gave birth to the 221 on that famous day when the struggl openly began between the most august, grandest, and only true power _royalty_, and the most false, most changeful, most oppressive of al powers,--the power called _parliamentary_, which elective assemblie exercise. The salon du Ronceret, secretly allied to the Cormon salon was boldly liberal

The Abbe de Sponde, after his return from Prebaudet, bore many an continual sufferings, which he kept within his breast, saying no wor of them to his niece. But to Mademoiselle Armande he opened his heart admitting that, folly for folly, he would much have preferred th Chevalier de Valois to Monsieur du Bousquier. Never would the dea chevalier have had the bad taste to contradict and oppose a poor ol man who had but a few days more to live; du Bousquier had destroye everything in the good old home. The abbe said, with scanty tear moistening his aged eyes,-

"Mademoiselle, I haven't even the little grove where I have walked fo fifty years. My beloved lindens are all cut down! At the moment of m death the Republic appears to me more than ever under the form of horrible destruction of the Home.

"You must pardon your niece," said the Chevalier de Valois. "Republica ideas are the first error of youth which seeks for liberty; later i finds it the worst of despotisms,--that of an impotent canaille. You poor niece is punished where she sinned.

"What will become of me in a house where naked women are painted on th walls?" said the poor abbe. "Where shall I find other lindens beneat which to read my breviary?

Like Kant, who was unable to collect his thoughts after the fir-tree a which he was accustomed to gaze while meditating was cut down, so th poor abbe could never attain the ardor of his former prayers whil walking up and down the shadeless paths. Du Bousquier had planted a English garden

"It was best," said Madame du Bousquier, without thinking so; but th Abbe Couterier had authorized her to commit many wrongs to please he husband

These restorations destroyed all the venerable dignity, cordiality, an patriarchal air of the old house. Like the Chevalier de Valois, whos personal neglect might be called an abdication, the bourgeois dignity o the Cormon salon no longer existed when it was turned to white and gold with mahogany ottomans covered in blue satin. The dining-room, adorne in modern taste, was colder in tone than it used to be, and the dinner were eaten with less appetite than formerly. Monsieur du Coudra declared that he felt his puns stick in his throat as he glanced a the figures painted on the walls, which looked him out of countenance Externally, the house was still provincial; but internally everythin revealed the purveyor of the Directory and the bad taste of th money-changer,--for instance, columns in stucco, glass doors, Gree mouldings, meaningless outlines, all styles conglomerated, magnificenc out of place and out of season

The town of Alencon gabbled for two weeks over this luxury, which seeme unparalleled; but a few months later the community was proud of it, an several rich manufacturers restored their houses and set up fine salons Modern furniture came into the town, and astral lamps were seen

The Abbe de Sponde was among the first to perceive the secre unhappiness this marriage now brought to the private life of his belove niece. The character of noble simplicity which had hitherto ruled thei lives was lost during the first winter, when du Bousquier gave two ball every month. Oh, to hear violins and profane music at these worldl entertainments in the sacred old house! The abbe prayed on his knee while the revels lasted. Next the political system of the sober salo was slowly perverted. The abbe fathomed du Bousquier; he shuddered a his imperious tone; he saw the tears in his niece's eyes when she fel herself losing all control over her own property; for her husband no left nothing in her hands but the management of the linen, the table and things of a kind which are the lot of women. Rose had no longer an orders to give. Monsieur's will was alone regarded by Jacquelin, no become coachman, by Rene, the groom, and by the chef, who came fro Paris, Mariette being reduced to kitchen maid. Madame du Bousquier ha no one to rule but Josette. Who knows what it costs to relinquish th delights of power? If the triumph of the will is one of the intoxicatin pleasures in the lives of great men, it is the ALL of life to narro minds. One must needs have been a minister dismissed from power t comprehend the bitter pain which came upon Madame du Bousquier when sh found herself reduced to this absolute servitude. She often got into th carriage against her will; she saw herself surrounded by servants wh were distasteful to her; she no longer had the handling of her dea money,--she who had known herself free to spend money, and did not spen it

All imposed limits make the human being desire to go beyond them. Th keenest sufferings come from the thwarting of self-will. The beginnin of this state of things was, however, rose-colored. Every concessio made to marital authority was an effect of the love which the poo woman felt for her husband. Du Bousquier behaved, in the first instance admirably to his wife: he was wise; he was excellent; he gave her th best of reasons for each new encroachment. So for the first two years o her marriage Madame du Bousquier appeared to be satisfied. She had tha deliberate, demure little air which distinguishes young women who hav married for love. The rush of blood to her head no longer tormente her. This appearance of satisfaction routed the scoffers, contradicte certain rumors about du Bousquier, and puzzled all observers of th human heart. Rose-Marie-Victoire was so afraid that if she displease her husband or opposed him, she would lose his affection and be deprive of his company, that she would willingly have sacrificed all to him even her uncle. Her silly little forms of pleasure deceived even th poor abbe for a time, who endured his own trials all the better fo thinking that his niece was happy, after all

Alencon at first thought the same. But there was one man more difficul to deceive than the whole town put together. The Chevalier de Valois who had taken refuge on the Sacred Mount of the upper aristocracy, no passed his life at the d'Esgrignons. He listened to the gossip and th gabble, and he thought day and night upon his vengeance. He meant t strike du Bousquier to the heart

The poor abbe fully understood the baseness of this first and las love of his niece; he shuddered as, little by little, he perceived th hypocritical nature of his nephew and his treacherous manoeuvres. Thoug du Bousquier restrained himself, as he thought of the abbe's property and wished not to cause him vexation, it was his hand that dealt th blow that sent the old priest to his grave. If you will interpret th word _intolerance_ as _firmness of principle_, if you do not wish t condemn in the catholic soul of the Abbe de Sponde the stoicism whic Walter Scott has made you admire in the puritan soul of Jeanie Deans father; if you are willing to recognize in the Roman Church the Potiu mori quam foedari that you admire in republican tenets,--you wil understand the sorrow of the Abbe de Sponde when he saw in his niece' salon the apostate priest, the renegade, the pervert, the heretic, tha enemy of the Church, the guilty taker of the Constitutional oath. D Bousquier, whose secret ambition was to lay down the law to the town wished, as a first proof of his power, to reconcile the minister o Saint-Leonard with the rector of the parish, and he succeeded. His wif thought he had accomplished a work of peace where the immovable abbe sa only treachery. The bishop came to visit du Bousquier, and seemed gla of the cessation of hostilities. The virtues of the Abbe Francoi had conquered prejudice, except that of the aged Roman Catholic, wh exclaimed with Cornelle, "Alas! what virtues do you make me hate!

The abbe died when orthodoxy thus expired in the diocese

In 1819, the property of the Abbe de Sponde increased Madame d Bousquier's income from real estate to twenty-five thousand franc without counting Prebaudet or the house in the Val-Noble. About thi time du Bousquier returned to his wife the capital of her savings whic she had yielded to him; and he made her use it in purchasing land contiguous to Prebaudet, which made that domain one of the mos considerable in the department, for the estates of the Abbe de Spond also adjoined it. Du Bousquier thus passed for one of the richest men o the department. This able man, the constant candidate of the liberals missing by seven or eight votes only in all the electoral battles fough under the Restoration, and who ostensibly repudiated the liberals b trying to be elected as a ministerial royalist (without ever bein able to conquer the aversion of the administration),--this rancorou republican, mad with ambition, resolved to rival the royalism an aristocracy of Alencon at the moment when they once more had th upper hand. He strengthened himself with the Church by the deceitfu appearance of a well-feigned piety: he accompanied his wife to mass; h gave money for the convents of the town; he assisted the congregation o the Sacre-Coeur; he took sides with the clergy on all occasions when th clergy came into collision with the town, the department, or the State Secretly supported by the liberals, protected by the Church, callin himself a constitutional royalist, he kept beside the aristocracy of th department in the one hope of ruining it,--and he did ruin it. Eve on the watch for the faults and blunders of the nobility an the government, he laid plans for his vengeance against th "chateau-people," and especially against the d'Esgrignons, in whos bosom he was one day to thrust a poisoned dagger

Among other benefits to the town he gave money liberally to revive th manufacture of point d'Alencon; he renewed the trade in linens, and th town had a factory. Inscribing himself thus upon the interests and hear of the masses, by doing what the royalists did not do, du Bousquier di not really risk a farthing. Backed by his fortune, he could affor to wait results which enterprising persons who involve themselves ar forced to abandon to luckier successors

Du Bousquier now posed as a banker. This miniature Lafitte was a partne in all new enterprises, taking good security. He served himself whil apparently serving the interests of the community. He was the prim mover of insurance companies, the protector of new enterprises fo public conveyance; he suggested petitions for asking the administratio for the necessary roads and bridges. Thus warned, the governmen considered this action an encroachment of its own authority. A struggl was begun injudiciously, for the good of the community compelled th authorities to yield in the end. Du Bousquier embittered the provincia nobility against the court nobility and the peerage; and finally h brought about the shocking adhesion of a strong party of constitutiona royalists to the warfare sustained by the "Journal des Debats," and M de Chateaubriand against the throne,--an ungrateful opposition based o ignoble interests, which was one cause of the triumph of the bourgeoisi and journalism in 1830

Thus du Bousquier, in common with the class he represented, had th satisfaction of beholding the funeral of royalty. The old republican smothered with masses, who for fifteen years had played that comedy t satisfy his vendetta, himself threw down with his own hand the whit flag of the mayoralty to the applause of the multitude. No man i France cast upon the new throne raised in August, 1830, a glance of mor intoxicated, joyous vengeance. The accession of the Younger Branch wa the triumph of the Revolution. To him the victory of the tricolor mean the resurrection of Montagne, which this time should surely brin the nobility down to the dust by means more certain than that of th guillotine, because less violent. The peerage without heredity; th National Guard, which puts on the same camp-bed the corner groce and the marquis; the abolition of the entails demanded by a bourgeoi lawyer; the Catholic Church deprived of its supremacy; and all the othe legislative inventions of August, 1830,--were to du Bousquier the wises possible application of the principles of 1793

Since 1830 this man has been a receiver-general. He relied for hi advancement on his relations with the Duc d'Orleans, father o Louis Philippe, and with Monsieur de Folmon, formerly steward to th Duchess-dowager of Orleans. He receives about eighty thousand francs year. In the eyes of the people about him Monsieur du Bousquier is man of means,--a respectable man, steady in his principles, upright and obliging. Alencon owes to him its connection with the industria movement by which Brittany may possibly some day be joined to what i popularly called modern civilization. Alencon, which up to 1816 coul boast of only two private carriages, saw, without amazement, in th course of ten years, coupes, landaus, tilburies, and cabriolets rollin through her streets. The burghers and the land-owners, alarmed at firs lest the price of everything should increase, recognized later tha this increase in the style of living had a contrary effect upon thei revenues. The prophetic remark of du Ronceret, "Du Bousquier is a ver strong man," was adopted by the whole country-side

But, unhappily for the wife, that saying has a double meaning. Th husband does not in any way resemble the public politician. This grea citizen, so liberal to the world about him, so kindly inspired with lov for his native place, is a despot in his own house, and utterly devoi of conjugal affection. This man, so profoundly astute, hypocritical, an sly; this Cromwell of the Val-Noble,--behaves in his home as he behave to the aristocracy, whom he caresses in hopes to throttle them. Like hi friend Bernadotte, he wears a velvet glove upon his iron hand. Hi wife has given him no children. Suzanne's remark and the chevalier' insinuations were therefore justified. But the liberal bourgeoisie the constitutional-royalist-bourgeoisie, the country-squires, th magistracy, and the "church party" laid the blame on Madame d Bousquier. "She was too old," they said; "Monsieur du Bousquier ha married her too late. Besides, it was very lucky for the poor woman it was dangerous at her age to bear children!" When Madame du Bousquie confided, weeping, her periodic despair to Mesdames du Coudrai and d Ronceret, those ladies would reply,-

"But you are crazy, my dear; you don't know what you are wishing for; child would be your death.

Many men, whose hopes were fastened on du Bousquier's triumph, sang hi praises to their wives, who in turn repeated them to the poor wife i some such speech as this:-

"You are very lucky, dear, to have married such an able man; you'l escape the misery of women whose husbands are men without energy incapable of managing their property, or bringing up their children.

"Your husband is making you queen of the department, my love. He'l never leave you embarrassed, not he! Why, he leads all Alencon.

"But I wish," said the poor wife, "that he gave less time to the publi and--

"You are hard to please, my dear Madame du Bousquier. I assure you tha all the women in town envy you your husband.

Misjudged by society, which began by blaming her, the pious woman foun ample opportunity in her home to display her virtues. She lived i tears, but she never ceased to present to others a placid face. To s Christian a soul a certain thought which pecked forever at her heart wa a crime: "I loved the Chevalier de Valois," it said; "but I have marrie du Bousquier." The love of poor Athanase Granson also rose like phantom of remorse, and pursued her even in her dreams. The death of he uncle, whose griefs at the last burst forth, made her life still mor sorrowful; for she now felt the suffering her uncle must have endure in witnessing the change of political and religious opinion in th old house. Sorrow often falls like a thunderbolt, as it did on Madam Granson; but in this old maid it slowly spread like a drop of oil, whic never leaves the stuff that slowly imbibes it

The Chevalier de Valois was the malicious manipulator who brought abou the crowning misfortune of Madame du Bousquier's life. His heart was se on undeceiving her pious simplicity; for the chevalier, expert in love divined du Bousquier, the married man, as he had divined du Bousquier the bachelor. But the wary republican was difficult of attack. His salo was, of course, closed to the Chevalier de Valois, as to all those who in the early days of his marriage, had slighted the Cormon mansion. H was, moreover, impervious to ridicule; he possessed a vast fortune he reigned in Alencon; he cared as little for his wife as Richard III cared for the dead horse which had helped him win a battle. To pleas her husband, Madame du Bousquier had broken off relations with th d'Esgrignon household, where she went no longer, except that sometime when her husband left her during his trips to Paris, she would pay brief visit to Mademoiselle Armande

About three years after her marriage, at the time of the Abbe d Sponde's death, Mademoiselle Armande joined Madame du Bousquier as the were leaving Saint-Leonard's, where they had gone to hear a requiem sai for him. The generous demoiselle thought that on this occasion she owe her sympathy to the niece in trouble. They walked together, talking o the dear deceased, until they reached the forbidden house, into whic Mademoiselle Armande enticed Madame du Bousquier by the charm of he manner and conversation. The poor desolate woman was glad to talk of he uncle with one whom he truly loved. Moreover, she wanted to receive th condolences of the old marquis, whom she had not seen for nearl three years. It was half-past one o'clock, and she found at the hote d'Esgrignon the Chevalier de Valois, who had come to dinner. As he bowe to her, he took her by the hands

"Well, dear, virtuous, and beloved lady," he said, in a tone of emotion "we have lost our sainted friend; we share your grief. Yes, your loss i as keenly felt here as in your own home,--more so," he added, alludin to du Bousquier

After a few more words of funeral oration, in which all present spok from the heart, the chevalier took Madame du Bousquier's arm, and gallantly placing it within his own, pressed it adoringly as he led he to the recess of a window

"Are you happy?" he said in a fatherly voice

"Yes," she said, dropping her eyes

Hearing that "Yes," Madame de Troisville, the daughter of the Princes Scherbellof, and the old Marquise de Casteran came up and joined th chevalier, together with Mademoiselle Armande. They all went to walk i the garden until dinner was served, without any perception on the par of Madame du Bousquier that a little conspiracy was afoot. "We have her now let us find out the secret of the case," were the words written i the eyes of all present

"To make your happiness complete," said Mademoiselle Armande, "you ough to have children,--a fine lad like my nephew--

Tears seemed to start in Madame du Bousquier's eyes

"I have heard it said that you were the one to blame in the matter, an that you feared the dangers of a pregnancy," said the chevalier

"I!" she said artlessly. "I would buy a child with a hundred years o purgatory if I could.

On the question thus started a discussion arose, conducted by Madam de Troisville and the old Marquise de Casteran with such delicacy an adroitness that the poor victim revealed, without being aware of it the secrets of her house. Mademoiselle Armande had taken the chevalier' arm, and walked away so as to leave the three women free to discus wedlock. Madame du Bousquier was then enlightened on the variou deceptions of her marriage; and as she was still the same simpleton sh had always been, she amused her advisers by delightful naivetes

Although at first the deceptive marriage of Mademoiselle Cormon made laugh throughout the town, which was soon initiated into the story o the case, before long Madame du Bousquier won the esteem and sympath of all the women. The fact that Mademoiselle Cormon had flung hersel headlong into marriage without succeeding in being married, mad everybody laugh at her; but when they learned the exceptional positio in which the sternness of her religious principles placed her, all th world admired her. "That poor Madame du Bousquier" took the place o "That good Mademoiselle Cormon.

Thus the chevalier contrived to render du Bousquier both ridiculous an odious for a time; but ridicule ends by weakening; when all had sai their say about him, the gossip died out. Besides, at fifty-seven year of age the dumb republican seemed to many people to have a right t retire. This affair, however, envenomed the hatred which du Bousquie already bore to the house of Esgrignon to such a degree that it mad him pitiless when the day of vengeance came. [See "The Gallery o Antiquities."] Madame du Bousquier received orders never again to se foot into that house. By way of reprisals upon the chevalier for th trick thus played him, du Bousquier, who had just created the journa called the "Courrier de l'Orne," caused the following notice to b inserted in it:-

"Bonds to the amount of one thousand francs a year will be paid t any person who can prove the existence of one Monsieur d Pombreton before, during, or after the Emigration.

Although her marriage was essentially negative, Madame du Bousquier sa some advantages in it: was it not better to interest herself in th most remarkable man in the town than to live alone? Du Bousquier wa preferable to a dog, or cat, or those canaries that spinsters love. H showed for his wife a sentiment more real and less selfish than tha which is felt by servants, confessors, and hopeful heirs. Later in lif she came to consider her husband as the instrument of divine wrath; fo she then saw innumerable sins in her former desires for marriage; sh regarded herself as justly punished for the sorrow she had brought o Madame Granson, and for the hastened death of her uncle. Obedien to that religion which commands us to kiss the rod with which th punishment is inflicted, she praised her husband, and publicly approve him. But in the confessional, or at night, when praying, she wept often imploring God's forgiveness for the apostasy of the man who thought th contrary of what he professed, and who desired the destruction of th aristocracy and the Church,--the two religions of the house of Cormon

With all her feelings bruised and immolated within her, compelled b duty to make her husband happy, attached to him by a certain indefinabl affection, born, perhaps, of habit, her life became one perpetua contradiction. She had married a man whose conduct and opinions sh hated, but whom she was bound to care for with dutiful tenderness Often she walked with the angels when du Bousquier ate her preserves o thought the dinner good. She watched to see that his slightest wish wa satisfied. If he tore off the cover of his newspaper and left it on table, instead of throwing it away, she would say:-

"Rene, leave that where it is; monsieur did not place it there withou intention.

If du Bousquier had a journey to take, she was anxious about hi trunk, his linen; she took the most minute precautions for his materia benefit. If he went to Prebaudet, she consulted the barometer th evening before to know if the weather would be fine. She watched fo his will in his eyes, like a dog which hears and sees its master whil sleeping. When the stout du Bousquier, touched by this scrupulous love would take her round the waist and kiss her forehead, saying, "What good woman you are!" tears of pleasure would come into the eyes of th poor creature. It is probably that du Bousquier felt himself oblige to make certain concessions which obtained for him the respec of Rose-Marie-Victoire; for Catholic virtue does not require dissimulation as complete as that of Madame du Bousquier. Often th good saint sat mutely by and listened to the hatred of men who conceale themselves under the cloak of constitutional royalists. She shuddere as she foresaw the ruin of the Church. Occasionally she risked a stupi word, an observation which du Bousquier cut short with a glance

The worries of such an existence ended by stupefying Madame d Bousquier, who found it easier and also more dignified to concentrat her intelligence on her own thoughts and resign herself to lead a lif that was purely animal. She then adopted the submission of a slave, an regarded it as a meritorious deed to accept the degradation in which he husband placed her. The fulfilment of his will never once caused her t murmur. The timid sheep went henceforth in the way the shepherd led her she gave herself up to the severest religious practices, and thought n more of Satan and his works and vanities. Thus she presented to th eyes of the world a union of all Christian virtues; and du Bousquie was certainly one of the luckiest men in the kingdom of France and o Navarre

"She will be a simpleton to her last breath," said the former collector who, however, dined with her twice a week

This history would be strangely incomplete if no mention were made o the coincidence of the Chevalier de Valois's death occurring at the sam time as that of Suzanne's mother. The chevalier died with the monarchy in August, 1830. He had joined the cortege of Charles X. at Nonancourt and piously escorted it to Cherbourg with the Troisvilles, Casterans d'Esgrignons, Verneuils, etc. The old gentleman had taken with him fift thousand francs,--the sum to which his savings then amounted. He offere them to one of the faithful friends of the king for transmission to hi master, speaking of his approaching death, and declaring that the mone came originally from the goodness of the king, and, moreover, that th property of the last of the Valois belonged of right to the crown. It i not known whether the fervor of his zeal conquered the reluctance of th Bourbon, who abandoned his fine kingdom of France without carrying awa with him a farthing, and who ought to have been touched by the devotio of the chevalier. It is certain, however, that Cesarine, the residuar legate of the old man, received from his estate only six hundred franc a year. The chevalier returned to Alencon, cruelly weakened by grief an by fatigue; he died on the very day when Charles X. arrived on a foreig shore

Madame du Val-Noble and her protector, who was just then afraid o the vengeance of the liberal party, were glad of a pretext to remai incognito in the village where Suzanne's mother died. At the sale of th chevalier's effects, which took place at that time, Suzanne, anxious t obtain a souvenir of her first and last friend, pushed up the pric of the famous snuff-box, which was finally knocked down to her for thousand francs. The portrait of the Princess Goritza was alone wort that sum. Two years later, a young dandy, who was making a collectio of the fine snuff-boxes of the last century, obtained from Madame d Val-Noble the chevalier's treasure. The charming confidant of many love and the pleasure of an old age is now on exhibition in a specie of private museum. If the dead could know what happens after them, th chevalier's head would surely blush upon its left cheek

If this history has no other effect than to inspire the possessors o precious relics with holy fear, and induce them to make codicils t secure these touching souvenirs of joys that are no more by bequeathin them to loving hands, it will have done an immense service to th chivalrous and romantic portion of the community; but it does, in truth contain a far higher moral. Does it not show the necessity for new species of education? Does it not invoke, from the enlightene solicitude of the ministers of Public Instruction, the creation o chairs of anthropology,--a science in which Germany outstrips us? Moder myths are even less understood than ancient ones, harried as we are wit myths. Myths are pressing us from every point; they serve all theories they explain all questions. They are, according to human ideas, th torches of history; they would save empires from revolution if only th professors of history would force the explanations they give into th mind of the provincial masses. If Mademoiselle Cormon had been a reade or a student, and if there had existed in the department of the Orne professor of anthropology, or even had she read Ariosto, the frightfu disasters of her conjugal life would never have occurred. She woul probably have known why the Italian poet makes Angelica prefer Medoro who was a blond Chevalier de Valois, to Orlando, whose mare was dead and who knew no better than to fly into a passion. Is not Medoro th mythic form for all courtiers of feminine royalty, and Orlando the myt of disorderly, furious, and impotent revolutions, which destroy bu cannot produce? We publish, but without assuming any responsibility fo it, this opinion of a pupil of Monsieur Ballanche

No information has reached us as to the fate of the negroes' heads i diamonds. You may see Madame du Val-Noble every evening at the Opera Thanks to the education given her by the Chevalier de Valois, she ha almost the air of a well-bred woman

Madame du Bousquier still lives; is not that as much as to say she stil suffers? After reaching the age of sixty--the period at which wome allow themselves to make confessions--she said confidentially to Madam du Coudrai, that she had never been able to endure the idea of dying a old maid