smal enough
from the street, and inside it was extremely plain; there was the usual
provincial courtyard--chilly, prim, and neat; and the house itself was
sober, almost convent-like, but in good repair.

Lucien went up the old staircase with the balustrade of chestnut wood
(the stone steps ceased after the second floor), crossed a shabby
antechamber, and came into the presence in a little wainscoted
drawing-room, beyond a dimly-lit salon. The carved woodwork, in the
taste of the eighteenth century, had been painted gray. There were
monochrome paintings on the frieze panels, and the walls were adorned
with crimson damask with a meagre border. The old-fashioned furniture
shrank piteously from sight under covers of a red-and-white check
pattern. On the sofa, covered with thin mattressed cushions, sat Mme.
de Bargeton; the poet beheld her by the light of two wax candles on
a sconce with a screen fitted to it, that stood before her on a round
table with a green cloth.

The queen did not attempt to rise, but she twisted very gracefully on
her seat, smiling on the poet, who was not a little fluttered by the
serpentine quiverings; her manner was distinguished, he thought. For
Mme. de Bargeton, she was impressed with Lucien's extreme beauty, with
his diffidence, with everything about him; for her the poet already
was poetry incarnate. Lucien scrutinized his hostess with discreet side
glances; she disappointed none of his expectations of a great lady.

Mme. de Bargeton, following a new fashion, wore a coif of slashed black
velvet, a head-dress that recalls memories of mediaeval legend to a
young imagination, to amplify, as it were, the dignity of womanhood. Her
red-gold hair, escaping from under her cap, hung loose; bright golden
color in the light, red in the rounded shadow of the curls that only
partially hid her neck. Beneath a massive white brow, clean cut and
strongly outlined, shone a pair of bright gray eyes encircled by a
margin of mother-of-pearl, two blue veins on each side of the nose
bringing out the whiteness of that delicate setting. The Bourbon curve
of the nose added to the ardent expression of an oval face; it was as
if the royal temper of the House of Conde shone conspicuous in this
feature. The careless cross-folds of the bodice left a white throat
bare, and half revealed the outlines of a still youthful figure and
shapely, well placed contours beneath.

With fingers tapering and well-kept, though somewhat