e came five or six times a week, until at last it
was settled that a place should be laid for him every day at the
President's table.

That year it was M. de Nesmond's turn to preside at the courts during
vacation-time. He pleaded urgent motives of health, which made it
imperative for him to have country air and complete rest. Another judge
consented to forego his vacation and take his place on the bench for four
months; so M. de Nesmond was able to leave Paris.

When the time came to set out by coach, madame went off into violent
hysterics; but the magistrate, backed up by his father-in-law, showed
firmness, and they set out for the Chateau de Nesmond, about thirty
leagues from Paris.

M. de Nesmond found the country far from enjoyable. His wife, who always
sat by herself in her dressing-gown and seldom consented to see a soul,
on more than one occasion left her guests at table in order to sulk and
mope in her closet.

She fell ill. During her periods of suffering and depression, she
continually mentioned the Spaniard's name. Failing his person, she
desired to have his portrait. Alarmed at his wife's condition, the
President agreed to write a letter himself to the author of all this
trouble, who soon sent the lady a handsome sweetmeat-box ornamented with
his crest and his portrait.

At the sight of this, Clorinde became like another woman. She had her
hair dressed and put on a smart gown, to show the portrait how deeply
enamoured she was of the original.

"Monsieur," she said to her husband, "I am the only daughter of a wealthy
man, who, when he gave me to a magistrate older than himself, did not
intend to sacrifice me. You have been young, no doubt, and you,
therefore, ought to know how revolting to youth, all freshness and
perfume, are the cuddlings and caresses of decrepitude. As yet I do not
detest you, but it is absolutely impossible to love you. On the
contrary, I am in love with Melladoro; perhaps in your day you were as
attractive as he is, and knew how to make the most of what you then
possessed. Now, will you please me by going back to Paris? I shall be
ever so grateful to you if you will. Or must you spend the autumn in
this gloomy abode of your ancestors? To show myself obedient, I will
consent; only in this case you must send your secretary to the Spanish
Legation, and your coach-and-six, to bring Melladoro here without delay."

At this speech M. de Nesmond could no longer hide his disgust, but
fr