n, to feast her eyes on the treasure in her own
hands. The handkerchiefs were unfolded, amidst a hundred dieux! ciels!
and dames! Our fineness and beauty were extolled in a manner that was
perfectly gratifying to the self-esteem of the whole family. Madame
Savon imagined that even her perfumes would be more fragrant in such
company, and she insisted on letting one drop--a single drop--of her
eau de cologne fall on the beautiful texture. I was the happy
handkerchief that was thus favored, and long did I riot in that
delightful odor, which was just strong enough to fill the air with
sensations, rather than impressions of all that is sweet and womanly in
the female wardrobe.

{usitatissimum had been left behind = the species name of linen means
"most useful"; Madame Savon = literally, Mrs. Soap; articles = short
for "articles de Paris" or Parisian specialties; dieux! = dear me!;
ciels! = good heavens!; dames = my oh my!}

CHAPTER III.

Notwithstanding this accidental introduction to one of the nicest
distinctions of good society, and the general exhilaration that
prevailed in our party, I was far from being perfectly happy. To own
the truth, I had left my heart in Picardie. I do not say I was in love;
I am far from certain that there is any precedent for a
pocket-handkerchief's being in love at all, and I am quite sure that
the sensations I experienced were different from those I have since had
frequent occasion to hear described. The circumstances which called
them forth were as follows:

The manufactory in which our family was fabricated was formerly known
as the Chateau de la Rocheaimard, and had been the property of the
Vicomte de la Rocheaimard previously to the revolution that overturned
the throne of Louis XVI. The vicomte and his wife joined the royalists
at Coblentz, and the former, with his only son, Adrien de la
Rocheaimard, or the Chevalier de la Rocheaimard, as he was usually
termed, had joined the allies in their attempted invasion on the soil
of France. The vicomte, a marechal du camp, had fallen in battle, but
the son escaped, and passed his youth in exile; marrying a few years
later, a cousin whose fortunes were at as low an ebb as his own. One
child, Adrienne, was the sole issue of this marriage, having been born
in the year 1810. Both the parents died before the Restoration, leaving
the little girl to the care of her pious grandmother, la vicomtesse,
who survived, in a feeble old age, to descant