the Marechale d'Effiat had spoken with a
broken voice and with tears in her eyes, and that she had appeared in a
deeper mourning than was customary. The people of the household and the
Italians of the Duchesse de Mantua, who had at that time retired for a
while to Chaumont, saw with surprise that sudden preparations were being
made for departure. The old domestic of the Marechal d'Effiat (who had
been dead six months) had taken again to his travelling-boots, which he
had sworn to abandon forever. This brave fellow, named Grandchamp, had
followed the chief of the family everywhere in the wars, and in his
financial work; he had been his equerry in the former, and his secretary
in the latter. He had recently returned from Germany, to inform the
mother and the children of the death of the Marechal, whose last sighs
he had heard at Luzzelstein. He was one of those faithful servants who
are become too rare in France; who suffer with the misfortunes of the
family, and rejoice with their joys; who approve of early marriages,
that they may have young masters to educate; who scold the children and
often the fathers; who risk death for them; who serve without wages in
revolutions; who toil for their support; and who in prosperous times
follow them everywhere, or exclaim at their return, "Behold our
vines!" He had a severe and remarkable face, a coppery complexion, and
silver-gray hair, in which, however, some few locks, black as his heavy
eyebrows, made him appear harsh at first; but a gentle countenance
softened this first impression. At present his voice was loud. He busied
himself much that day in hastening the dinner, and ordered about all the
servants, who were in mourning like himself.

"Come," said he, "make haste to serve the dinner, while Germain, Louis,
and Etienne saddle their horses; Monsieur Henri and I must be far away
by eight o'clock this evening. And you, gentlemen, Italians, have you
warned your young Princess? I wager that she is gone to read with her
ladies at the end of the park, or on the banks of the lake. She always
comes in after the first course, and makes every one rise from the
table."

"Ah, my good Grandchamp," said in a low voice a young maid servant who
was passing, "do not speak of the Duchess; she is very sorrowful, and I
believe that she will remain in her apartment. Santa Maria! what a shame
to travel to-day! to depart on a Friday, the thirteenth of the month,
and the day of Saint Gervais and o