u?"

"Do you think he succeeded?" replied Sallenauve.

"No; but such attempts to capture are always disagreeable, and I beg
you to believe that I was not a party to the plot. I am not so violently
ministerial as my husband."

"Nor I as violently revolutionary as they think."

"I trust that these annoying politics, which have already produced a
jar between you and Monsieur de l'Estorade, may not disgust you with the
idea of being counted among our friends."

"That is an honor, madame, for which I can only be grateful."

"It is not an honor but a pleasure that I hoped you would find in it,"
said Madame de l'Estorade, quickly. "I say, with Nais, if I had saved
the life of a friend's child, I should cease to be ceremonious with
her."

So saying, and without listening to his answer, she disengaged her arm
quickly from that of Sallenauve, and left him rather astonished at the
tone in which she had spoken.

In seeing Madame de l'Estorade so completely docile to the advice, more
clever than prudent, perhaps, of Madame de Camps, the reader, we think,
can scarcely be surprised. A certain attraction has been evident for
some time on the part of the frigid countess not only to the preserver
of her daughter, but to the man who under such romantic and singular
circumstances had come before her mind. Carefully considered, Madame de
l'Estorade is seen to be far from one of those impassible natures which
resist all affectionate emotions except those of the family. With a
beauty that was partly Spanish, she had eyes which her friend Louise
de Chaulieu declared could ripen peaches. Her coldness was not what
physicians call congenital; her temperament was an acquired one.
Marrying from _reason_ a man whose mental insufficiency is very
apparent, she made herself love him out of pity and a sense of
protection. Up to the present time, by means of a certain atrophy of
heart, she had succeeded, without one failure, in making Monsieur de
l'Estorade perfectly happy. With the same instinct, she had exaggerated
the maternal sentiment to an almost inconceivable degree, until in that
way she had fairly stifled all the other cravings of her nature. It must
be said, however, that the success she had had in accomplishing this
hard task was due in a great measure to _the circumstance_ of Louise de
Chaulieu. To her that dear mistaken one was like the drunken slave whom
the Spartans made a living lesson to their children; and between the two
frie