the linen, the table,
and things of a kind which are the lot of women. Rose had no longer any
orders to give. Monsieur's will was alone regarded by Jacquelin, now
become coachman, by Rene, the groom, and by the chef, who came from
Paris, Mariette being reduced to kitchen maid. Madame du Bousquier had
no one to rule but Josette. Who knows what it costs to relinquish the
delights of power? If the triumph of the will is one of the intoxicating
pleasures in the lives of great men, it is the ALL of life to narrow
minds. One must needs have been a minister dismissed from power to
comprehend the bitter pain which came upon Madame du Bousquier when she
found herself reduced to this absolute servitude. She often got into the
carriage against her will; she saw herself surrounded by servants who
were distasteful to her; she no longer had the handling of her dear
money,--she who had known herself free to spend money, and did not spend
it.

All imposed limits make the human being desire to go beyond them. The
keenest sufferings come from the thwarting of self-will. The beginning
of this state of things was, however, rose-colored. Every concession
made to marital authority was an effect of the love which the poor
woman felt for her husband. Du Bousquier behaved, in the first instance,
admirably to his wife: he was wise; he was excellent; he gave her the
best of reasons for each new encroachment. So for the first two years of
her marriage Madame du Bousquier appeared to be satisfied. She had that
deliberate, demure little air which distinguishes young women who have
married for love. The rush of blood to her head no longer tormented
her. This appearance of satisfaction routed the scoffers, contradicted
certain rumors about du Bousquier, and puzzled all observers of the
human heart. Rose-Marie-Victoire was so afraid that if she displeased
her husband or opposed him, she would lose his affection and be deprived
of his company, that she would willingly have sacrificed all to him,
even her uncle. Her silly little forms of pleasure deceived even the
poor abbe for a time, who endured his own trials all the better for
thinking that his niece was happy, after all.

Alencon at first thought the same. But there was one man more difficult
to deceive than the whole town put together. The Chevalier de Valois,
who had taken refuge on the Sacred Mount of the upper aristocracy, now
passed his life at the d'Esgrignons. He listened to the gossip and t