d satirically, "you forget--that you
are wearing a false front."

Du Bousquier blushed. The false front was hanging half a dozen inches
from his skull. Mademoiselle Cormon raised her eyes, saw that skull in
all its nudity, and lowered them, abashed. Du Bousquier cast upon the
chevalier the most venomous look that toad ever darted on its prey.

"Dogs of aristocrats who despise me," thought he, "I'll crush you some
day."

The chevalier thought he had recovered his advantage. But Mademoiselle
Cormon was not a woman to understand the connection which the chevalier
intimated between his congratulatory wish and the false front. Besides,
even if she had comprehended it, her word was passed, her hand given.
Monsieur de Valois saw at once that all was lost. The innocent woman,
with the two now silent men before her, wished, true to her sense of
duty, to amuse them.

"Why not play a game of piquet together?" she said artlessly, without
the slightest malice.

Du Bousquier smiled, and went, as the future master of the house, to
fetch the piquet table. Whether the Chevalier de Valois lost his head,
or whether he wanted to stay and study the causes of his disaster and
remedy it, certain it is that he allowed himself to be led like a lamb
to the slaughter. He had received the most violent knock-down blow that
ever struck a man; any nobleman would have lost his senses for less.

The Abbe de Sponde and the Vicomte de Troisville soon returned.
Mademoiselle Cormon instantly rose, hurried into the antechamber, and
took her uncle apart to tell him her resolution. Learning that the house
in the rue du Cygne exactly suited the viscount, she begged her future
husband to do her the kindness to tell him that her uncle knew it
was for sale. She dared not confide that lie to the abbe, fearing his
absent-mindedness. The lie, however, prospered better than if it had
been a virtuous action. In the course of that evening all Alencon heard
the news. For the last four days the town had had as much to think of
as during the fatal days of 1814 and 1815. Some laughed; others admitted
the marriage. These blamed it; those approved it. The middle classes
of Alencon rejoiced; they regarded it as a victory. The next day, among
friends, the Chevalier de Valois said a cruel thing:--

"The Cormons end as they began; there's only a hand's breadth between a
steward and a purveyor."

CHAPTER VII. OTHER RESULTS

The news of Mademoiselle Cormon's cho