w steps away from the Chamber of Peers, and that very
day the House was sitting; but long before the peers returned to their
palaces, several people had recognised the Duchess's carriage and
liveries. The first of these was the Baron de Maulincour. That young
officer had met with disdain from Mme de Langeais and a better reception
from Mme de Serizy; he betook himself at once therefore to his mistress,
and under seal of secrecy told her of this strange freak.

In a moment the news was spread with telegraphic speed through all the
coteries in the Faubourg Saint-Germain; it reached the Tuileries and the
Elysee-Bourbon; it was the sensation of the day, the matter of all the
talk from noon till night. Almost everywhere the women denied the facts,
but in such a manner that the report was confirmed; the men one and
all believed it, and manifested a most indulgent interest in Mme de
Langeais. Some among them threw the blame on Armand.

"That savage of a Montriveau is a man of bronze," said they; "he
insisted on making this scandal, no doubt."

"Very well, then," others replied, "Mme de Langeais has been guilty of
a most generous piece of imprudence. To renounce the world and rank, and
fortune, and consideration for her lover's sake, and that in the face
of all Paris, is as fine a _coup d'etat_ for a woman as that barber's
knife-thrust, which so affected Canning in a court of assize. Not one
of the women who blame the Duchess would make a declaration worthy of
ancient times. It is heroic of Mme de Langeais to proclaim herself so
frankly. Now there is nothing left to her but to love Montriveau. There
must be something great about a woman if she says, 'I will have but one
passion.'"

"But what is to become of society, monsieur, if you honour vice in this
way without respect for virtue?" asked the Comtesse de Granville, the
attorney-general's wife.

While the Chateau, the Faubourg, and the Chaussee d'Antin were
discussing the shipwreck of aristocratic virtue; while excited young men
rushed about on horseback to make sure that the carriage was standing in
the Rue de Tournon, and the Duchess in consequence was beyond a doubt in
M. de Montriveau's rooms, Mme de Langeais, with heavy throbbing pulses,
was lying hidden away in her boudoir. And Armand?--he had been out all
night, and at that moment was walking with M. de Marsay in the Gardens
of the Tuileries. The elder members, of Mme de Langeais' family were
engaged in calling upo