, of complex nature, he was easily fascinated by
the comfort of luxury, without which he could hardly have lived; and, in
the same way, he clung to the social distinctions which his principles
contemned. Thus his theories as an artist, a thinker, and a poet were in
frequent antagonism with his tastes, his feelings, and his habits as a
man of rank and wealth; but he comforted himself for his inconsistencies
by recognizing them in many Parisians, like himself liberal by policy
and aristocrats by nature.

Hence it was not without some uneasiness that he found himself, on
December 31, 1830, under a Paris thaw, following at the heels of a woman
whose dress betrayed the most abject, inveterate, and long-accustomed
poverty, who was no handsomer than a hundred others to be seen any
evening at the play, at the opera, in the world of fashion, and who
was certainly not so young as Madame de Manerville, from whom he had
obtained an assignation for that very day, and who was perhaps waiting
for him at that very hour.

But in the glance at once tender and wild, swift and deep, which that
woman's black eyes had shot at him by stealth, there was such a world of
buried sorrows and promised joys! And she had colored so fiercely when,
on coming out of a shop where she had lingered a quarter of an hour, her
look frankly met the Count's, who had been waiting for her hard by! In
fact, there were so many _buts_ and _ifs_, that, possessed by one of
those mad temptations for which there is no word in any language, not
even in that of the orgy, he had set out in pursuit of this woman,
hunting her down like a hardened Parisian.

On the way, whether he kept behind or ahead of this damsel, he studied
every detail of her person and her dress, hoping to dislodge the insane
and ridiculous fancy that had taken up an abode in his brain; but he
presently found in his examination a keener pleasure than he had felt
only the day before in gazing at the perfect shape of a woman he loved,
as she took her bath. Now and again, the unknown fair, bending her head,
gave him a look like that of a kid tethered with its head to the ground,
and finding herself still the object of his pursuit, she hurried on as
if to fly. Nevertheless, each time that a block of carriages, or any
other delay, brought Andrea to her side, he saw her turn away from
his gaze without any signs of annoyance. These signals of restrained
feelings spurred the frenzied dreams that had run away