character that had no duplicity in it--added to
considerable personal charms, gave her a vast influence in the society
wherein she moved. She was not strictly handsome, but her features were
of extreme delicacy, and capable of expression the most refined and
captivating; but her voice was the spell which, it is said, never failed
to fascinate those who heard it.

In the management of this marvellous instrument of captivation was,
perhaps, the solitary evidence of anything like study or artifice about
her. She knew how to attune and modulate it to perfection; and even
they who pronounced her conversational powers as inferior to Madame
de Stael's, were ready to confess that the melody and softness of her
utterance gave her an unquestionable advantage. Married to a man more
than double her age, she exercised a complete independence in all the
arrangements of her household, inviting whom she pleased, bringing
together in her salons ingredients the most dissimilar, and
representatives of classes the widest apart.

Gerald had more than once heard of these receptions, and was curious
to witness them; he wished, besides, to see some of the men whom the
popular will declared to be the great leaders of party, and whose
legislative ability was regarded as the hope of France.

'Do not flatter yourself that you are about to be struck by any
intellectual display,' whispered De Noe, as he led him up the stairs.
'For the most part, you will hear nothing but violent tirades against
royalty, and coarse abuse of a society of which the speaker knows
nothing.'

The salons, which were small, were crammed with company, so that for
some time Gerald had little other occupation than to scrutinise the
appearance of the guests, and the strange extravagances of that costume
which they had come to assume distinctively.

'Look yonder,' whispered De Noe, 'at the tall, dark man, like a
Spaniard, with his long hair combed back and falling on his neck. That
is Lanthenas, _l'ami de la maison_; he lives here. Were she any one
else, people would call him her lover; but "La Manon," as they style
her, has no heart to bestow on such emotion; she is with her whole soul
in politics, and only cares for humanity when counted by millions.'

'Who is the pert-looking, conceited fellow he is talking to?' asked
Gerald.

'That is Louvet, the great literary hero of the day. Seven editions of
an indecent novel, sold in as many weeks, have made him rich as well as