e was going away again; but as he stepped into
the carriage, he heard the noise of people coming downstairs, and the
servant called out first, "Madame la Duchesse de Chaulieu's people,"
then "Madame la Vicomtesse de Grandlieu's carriage!"

Lucien merely said, "To the Italian opera"; but in spite of his haste,
the luckless dandy could not escape the Duc de Chaulieu and his son, the
Duc de Rhetore, to whom he was obliged to bow, for they did not speak
a word to him. A great catastrophe at Court, the fall of a formidable
favorite, has ere now been pronounced on the threshold of a royal study,
in one word from an usher with a face like a plaster cast.

"How am I to let my adviser know of this disaster--this instant----?"
thought Lucien as he drove to the opera-house. "What is going on?"

He racked his brain with conjectures.

This was what had taken place. That morning, at eleven o'clock, the
Duc de Grandlieu, as he went into the little room where the family all
breakfasted together, said to Clotilde after kissing her, "Until further
orders, my child, think no more of the Sieur de Rubempre."

Then he had taken the Duchesse by the hand, and led her into a window
recess to say a few words in an undertone, which made poor Clotilde turn
pale; for she watched her mother as she listened to the Duke, and saw
her expression of extreme surprise.

"Jean," said the Duke to one of his servants, "take this note to
Monsieur le Duc de Chaulieu, and beg him to answer by you, Yes or No.--I
am asking him to dine here to-day," he added to his wife.

Breakfast had been a most melancholy meal. The Duchess was meditative,
the Duke seemed to be vexed with himself, and Clotilde could with
difficulty restrain her tears.

"My child, your father is right; you must obey him," the mother had said
to the daughter with much emotion. "I do not say as he does, 'Think no
more of Lucien.' No--for I understand your suffering"--Clotilde kissed
her mother's hand--"but I do say, my darling, Wait, take no step, suffer
in silence since you love him, and put your trust in your parents'
care.--Great ladies, my child, are great just because they can do their
duty on every occasion, and do it nobly."

"But what is it about?" asked Clotilde as white as a lily.

"Matters too serious to be discussed with you, my dearest," the Duchess
replied. "For if they are untrue, your mind would be unnecessarily
sullied; and if they are true, you must never know them."

A