duke.
"Come to Herouville and see things for yourself."

Charles Mignon replied that every capitalist should take time to examine
into such matters with a cool head, thus giving the duke a pretext for
his visits to the Chalet. The sight of Modeste made a lively impression
on the young man, and he asked the favor of receiving her at Herouville
with her father, saying that his sister and his aunt had heard much of
her, and wished to make her acquaintance. On this the count proposed
to present his daughter to those ladies himself, and invited the whole
party to dinner on the day of his return to the villa. The duke accepted
the invitation. The blue ribbon, the title, and above all, the ecstatic
glances of the noble gentleman had an effect upon Modeste; but she
appeared to great advantage in carriage, dignity, and conversation. The
duke withdrew reluctantly, carrying with him an invitation to visit the
Chalet every evening,--an invitation based on the impossibility of a
courtier of Charles X. existing for a single evening without his rubber.

The following evening, therefore, Modeste was to see all three of her
lovers. No matter what young girls may say, and though the logic of
the heart may lead them to sacrifice everything to preference, it is
extremely flattering to their self-love to see a number of rival
adorers around them,--distinguished or celebrated men, or men of ancient
lineage,--all endeavoring to shine and to please. Suffer as Modeste may
in general estimation, it must be told she subsequently admitted that
the sentiments expressed in her letters paled before the pleasure of
seeing three such different minds at war with one another,--three men
who, taken separately, would each have done honor to the most exacting
family. Yet this luxury of self-love was checked by a misanthropical
spitefulness, resulting from the terrible wound she had
received,--although by this time she was beginning to think of that
wound as a disappointment only. So when her father said to her,
laughing, "Well, Modeste, do you want to be a duchess?" she answered,
with a mocking curtsey,--

"Sorrows have made me philosophical."

"Do you mean to be only a baroness?" asked Butscha.

"Or a viscountess?" said her father.

"How could that be?" she asked quickly.

"If you accept Monsieur de La Briere, he has enough merit and influence
to obtain permission from the king to bear my titles and arms."

"Oh, if it comes to disguising himself,