had taught me how to glide with stealthy snake-like movements to her
room. She felt that I loved her, and this childish affection was welcome
as a ray of sunshine in the winter of her life.
I don't know what went on in her rooms at night, but she had many
visitors; and when I came on tiptoe in the morning to see if she
were awake, I would find the drawing-room furniture disarranged, the
card-tables set out, and patches of snuff scattered about.
This drawing-room is furnished in the same style as the bedroom. The
chairs and tables are oddly shaped, with claw feet and hollow mouldings.
Rich garlands of flowers, beautifully designed and carved, wind over the
mirrors and hang down in festoons. On the consoles are fine china
vases. The ground colors are scarlet and white. My grandmother was a
high-spirited, striking brunette, as might be inferred from her choice
of colors. I have found in the drawing-room a writing-table I remember
well; the figures on it used to fascinate me; it is plaited in graven
silver, and was a present from one of the Genoese Lomellini. Each side
of the table represents the occupations of a different season; there are
hundreds of figures in each picture, and all in relief.
I remained alone for two hours, while old memories rose before me,
one after another, on this spot, hallowed by the death of a woman most
remarkable even among the witty and beautiful Court ladies of Louis
XV.'s day.
You know how abruptly I was parted from her, at a day's notice, in 1816.
"Go and bid good-bye to your grandmother," said my mother.
The Princess received me as usual, without any display of feeling, and
expressed no surprise at my departure.
"You are going to the convent, dear," she said, "and will see your aunt
there, who is an excellent woman. I shall take care, though, that they
don't make a victim of you; you shall be independent, and able to marry
whom you please."
Six months later she died. Her will had been given into the keeping of
the Prince de Talleyrand, the most devoted of all her old friends. He
contrived, while paying a visit to Mlle. de Chargeboeuf, to intimate
to me, through her, that my grandmother forbade me to take the vows. I
hope, sooner or later, to meet the Prince, and then I shall doubtless
learn more from him.
Thus, sweetheart, if I have found no one in flesh and blood to meet me,
I have comforted myself with the shade of the dear Princess, and have
prepared myself for carryin
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