to come in again without orders; I tell you
this for the last time."

For a week, Mme de Langeais went to every house where there was a hope
of meeting M. de Montriveau. Contrary to her usual habits, she came
early and went late; gave up dancing, and went to the card-tables. Her
experiments were fruitless. She did not succeed in getting a glimpse of
Armand. She did not dare to utter his name now. One evening, however, in
a fit of despair, she spoke to Mme de Serizy, and asked as carelessly as
she could, "You must have quarreled with M. de Montriveau? He is not to
be seen at your house now."

The Countess laughed. "So he does not come here either?" she returned.
"He is not to be seen anywhere, for that matter. He is interested in
some woman, no doubt."

"I used to think that the Marquis de Ronquerolles was one of his
friends----" the Duchess began sweetly.

"I have never heard my brother say that he was acquainted with him."

Mme de Langeais did not reply. Mme de Serizy concluded from the
Duchess's silence that she might apply the scourge with impunity to a
discreet friendship which she had seen, with bitterness of soul, for a
long time past.

"So you miss that melancholy personage, do you? I have heard most
extraordinary things of him. Wound his feelings, he never comes back,
he forgives nothing; and, if you love him, he keeps you in chains. To
everything that I said of him, one of those that praise him sky-high
would always answer, 'He knows how to love!' People are always telling
me that Montriveau would give up all for his friend; that his is a great
nature. Pooh! society does not want such tremendous natures. Men of that
stamp are all very well at home; let them stay there and leave us to our
pleasant littlenesses. What do you say, Antoinette?"

Woman of the world though she was, the Duchess seemed agitated, yet she
replied in a natural voice that deceived her fair friend:

"I am sorry to miss him. I took a great interest in him, and promised
to myself to be his sincere friend. I like great natures, dear friend,
ridiculous though you may think it. To give oneself to a fool is a clear
confession, is it not, that one is governed wholly by one's senses?"

Mme de Serizy's "preferences" had always been for commonplace men; her
lover at the moment, the Marquis d'Aiglemont, was a fine, tall man.

After this, the Countess soon took her departure, you may be sure Mme
de Langeais saw hope in Armand's withdrawal fro