sieur Alain in a parenthesis, "made that
last precaution useless.

"Gifted with the beauty of an angel," he continued, "and with wonderful
grace and agility in all exercises of the body, the young Master of
petitions possessed the gift of _charm_. Mademoiselle de Champignelles
became, as you can readily believe, very much in love with her husband.
The old man, delighted with the outset of the marriage, and believing in
the reform of his son, sent the young couple to Paris. All this happened
about the beginning of the year 1788.

"Nearly a whole year of happiness followed. Madame de la Chanterie
enjoyed during that time the tenderest care and the most delicate
attentions that a man deeply in love can bestow upon a loving woman.
However short it may have been, the honeymoon did shine into the heart
of that noble and most unfortunate woman. You know that in those days
women nursed their children. Madame de la Chanterie had a daughter. That
period during which a woman ought to be the object of redoubled care and
tenderness proved, in this case, the beginning of untold miseries. The
Master of petitions was obliged to sell all the property he could lay
his hands on to pay former debts (which he had not acknowledged to his
father) and fresh losses at play. Then the National Assembly decreed
the dissolution of the Grand Council, the parliament, and all the law
offices so dearly bought.

"The young household, increased by a daughter, was soon without
other means than those settled upon Madame de la Chanterie by her
father-in-law. In twenty months that charming woman, now only seventeen
and a half years old, was obliged to live--she and the child she was
nursing--in an obscure quarter, and by the labor of her hands. She was
then entirely abandoned by her husband, who fell by degrees lower
and lower, into the society of women of the worst kind. Never did she
reproach her husband, never has she allowed herself to blame him. She
has sometimes told us how, during those wretched days, she would pray
for her 'dear Henri.'

"That scamp was named Henri," said the worthy man interrupting himself.
"We never mention that name here, nor that of Henriette. I resume:

"Never leaving her little room in the rue de la Corderie du Temple,
except to buy provisions or to fetch her work, Madame de la Chanterie
contrived to get along, thanks to a hundred francs which her
father-in-law, touched by her goodness, sent to her once a month.
Neverthel