ons, lace,
liveries, kings, queens, _roturiers_, beggars, you would have thought,
had you heard her, so vast was her confusion of all things, that chaos
had come again. Our royal host did not escape her. "You never before
supped here _en famille_," said she,--"_mon Dieu_! it will do your heart
good to see how much the Regent will eat. He has such an appetite; you
know he never eats any dinner, in order to eat the more at supper. You
see that little dark woman he is talking to?--well, she is Madame de
Parabere: he calls her his little black crow; was there ever such a pet
name? Can you guess why he likes her? Nay, never take the trouble of
thinking: I will tell you at once; simply because she eats and drinks so
much. _Parole d'honneur_, 'tis true. The Regent says he likes sympathy
in all things! is it not droll? What a hideous old man is that Noce: his
face looks as if it had caught the rainbow. That impudent fellow Dubois
scolded him for squeezing so many louis out of the good Regent. The
yellow creature attempted to deny the fact. 'Nay,' cried Dubois, 'you
cannot contradict me: I see their very ghosts in your face.'"

While my companion was thus amusing herself, Noce, unconscious of her
panegyric on his personal attractions, joined us.

"Ah! my dear Noce," said the lady, most affectionately, "how well you
are looking! I am delighted to see you."

"I do not doubt it," said Noce "for I have to inform you that your
petition is granted; your husband will have the place."

"Oh, how eternally grateful I am to you!" cried the lady, in an ecstasy;
"my poor, dear husband will be so rejoiced. I wish I had wings to fly to
him!"

The gallant Noce uttered a compliment; I thought myself _de trop_, and
moved away. I again encountered Chatran.

"I overheard your conversation with Madame la Marquise," said he,
smiling: "she has a bitter tongue; has she not?"

"Very! how she abused the poor rogue Noce!"

"Yes, and yet he is her lover!"

"Her lover!--you astonish me: why, she seemed almost fond of her
husband; the tears came in her eyes when she spoke of him."

"She is fond of him!" said Chatran, dryly. "She loves the ground he
treads on: it is precisely for that reason she favours Noce; she is
never happy but when she is procuring something _pour son cher bon
mari_. She goes to spend a week at Noce's country-house, and writes to
her husband, with a pen dipped in her blood, saying, 'My _heart_ is with
thee!'"

"Certainly,"