poignant than any that preceded it had cut
her to the quick. She had doubtless come to a conclusion as to Moina's
future; and now, foreseeing clearly all the troubles in store for her
child, the sorrows of her own unhappy life had begun to weigh once
more upon her. The key of her position must be sought in her daughter's
situation.

The Comte de Saint-Hereen had been away for nearly six months on a
political mission. The Countess, whether from sheer giddiness, or in
obedience to the countless instincts of woman's coquetry, or to essay
its power--with all the vanity of a frivolous fine lady, all the
capricious waywardness of a child--was amusing herself, during her
husband's absence, by playing with the passion of a clever but heartless
man, distracted (so he said) with love, the love that combines readily
with every petty social ambition of a self-conceited coxcomb. Mme.
d'Aiglemont, whose long experience had given her a knowledge of life,
and taught her to judge of men and to dread the world, watched the
course of this flirtation, and saw that it could only end in one way,
if her daughter should fall into the hands of an utterly unscrupulous
intriguer. How could it be other than a terrible thought for her that
her daughter listened willingly to this _roue_? Her darling stood on the
brink of a precipice, she felt horribly sure of it, yet dared not hold
her back. She was afraid of the Countess. She knew too that Moina would
not listen to her wise warnings; she knew that she had no influence
over that nature--iron for her, silken-soft for all others. Her mother's
tenderness might have led her to sympathize with the troubles of a
passion called forth by the nobler qualities of a lover, but this was
no passion--it was coquetry, and the Marquise despised Alfred de
Vandenesse, knowing that he had entered upon this flirtation with Moina
as if it were a game of chess.

But if Alfred de Vandenesse made her shudder with disgust, she was
obliged--unhappy mother!--to conceal the strongest reason for her
loathing in the deepest recesses of her heart. She was on terms of
intimate friendship with the Marquis de Vandenesse, the young man's
father; and this friendship, a respectable one in the eyes of the world,
excused the son's constant presence in the house, he professing an old
attachment, dating from childhood, for Mme. de Saint-Hereen. More than
this, in vain did Mme. d'Aiglemont nerve herself to come between Moina
and Alfred de