VIII. THE COMTESSE DE L'ESTORADE TO MADAME OCTAVE DE CAMPS

April, 1839.

For the last two weeks we have heard nothing more of Monsieur Dorlange.
Not only has he not seen fit to renew the conversation so provokingly
interrupted by Madame de la Bastie, but he has not even remembered that
it was proper to leave his card at the house after a dinner.

While we were breakfasting yesterday morning, I happened to make this
remark (though without any sharpness), and just then our Lucas, who, as
an old servant, sometimes allows himself a little familiarity, had the
door swung triumphantly open to admit him, bearing _something_, I knew
not what, wrapped in tissue paper, which he deposited with great care on
the table, giving a note to Monsieur de l'Estorade at the same time.

"What is that?" I said to Lucas, on whose face I detected the signs of
a "surprise," at the same time putting out my hand to uncover the
mysterious article.

"Oh! madame must be careful!" cried Lucas; "it is fragile."

During this time my husband had read the note, which he now passed to
me, saying:--

"Read it. Monsieur Dorlange sends us an excuse."

The note said:--

Monsieur le Comte,--I think I observed that Madame la comtesse
granted me rather reluctantly her permission to profit by the
audacious larceny I committed at her expense. I have, therefore,
taken upon myself to change the character of my statue, and, at
the present moment, the _two sisters_ no longer resemble each
other. Nevertheless, as I did not wish that _all_ should be lost
to the world, I modelled the head of Saint-Ursula before
retouching it. From that model I have now made a reduction, which
I place upon the charming shoulders of a countess not yet
canonized, thank God! The mould was broken as soon as the one
cast, which I have now the honor of sending you, was made. This
fact may, perhaps, give some little additional value to the bust
in your eyes.

Accept, Monsieur le comte, etc., etc.

While I was reading the note, my husband, Lucas, Rene, and Nais had
eagerly extracted me from my swathings, and then, in truth, I appeared
no longer a saint, but a woman of the world. I really thought my husband
and children would go out of their minds with admiration and pleasure.
The news of this masterpiece spread about the house, and all our
servants, whom we rather spoil, came flocking, one after another, as
if sent for, crying out, "Oh, it is mada