aris at the
"Hotel Montmorenci," in the street of the same name.

Paris struck me quite as a new place. Madame d'Urfe was dead, my friends
had changed their houses and their fortunes; the poor had become rich and
the rich poor, new streets and buildings were rising on all sides; I
hardly knew my way about the town. Everything was dearer; poverty was
rampant, and luxury at it highest pitch. Perhaps Paris is the only city
where so great a change could take place in the course of five or six
years.

The first call I made was on Madame du Rumain, who was delighted to see
me. I repaid her the money she had so kindly lent me in the time of my
distress. She was well in health, but harassed by so many anxieties and
private troubles that she said Providence must have sent me to her to
relieve her of all her griefs by my cabala. I told her that I would wait
on her at any hour or hours; and this, indeed, was the least I could do
for the woman who had been so kind to me.

My brother had gone to live in the Faubourg St. Antoine. Both he and his
wife (who remained constant to him, despite his physical disability) were
overjoyed to see me, and entreated me to come and stop with them. I told
them I should be glad to do so, as soon as the lady who had travelled
with me had got over her confinement. I did not think proper to tell them
her story, and they had the delicacy to refrain from questioning me on
the subject. The same day I called on Princess Lubomirska and Tomatis,
begging them not to take it amiss if my visits were few and far between,
as the lady they had seen at Spa was approaching her confinement, and
demanded all my care.

After the discharge of these duties I remained constantly by Charlotte's
side. On October 8th I thought it would be well to take her to Madame
Lamarre, a midwife, who lived in the Faubourg St. Denis, and Charlotte
was of the same opinion. We went together, she saw the room, the bed, and
heard how she would be tended and looked after, for all of which I would
pay. At nightfall we drove to the place, with a trunk containing all her
effects.

As we were leaving the Rue Montmorenci our carriage was obliged to stop
to allow the funeral of some rich man to go by. Charlotte covered her
face with her handkerchief, and whispered in my ear, "Dearest, I know it
is a foolish superstition, but to a woman in my condition such a meeting
is of evil omen."

"What, Charlotte! I thought you were too wise to have such