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The beautiful golden-haired boy, Hervey, then about five years old, fell ill, and after lingering for some time, passed away, and was buried in an exile's grave at St. Germain. Though the mother bore even this heart-crushing blow with outward fortitude, the memory of it dwelt always in an inner chamber of her heart.
We were often in Paris, and I became as skilled in beautifying artifices as any passee wife of the Faubourg St. Germain. Since his death I have kept up the practice, partly because the vice is almost ineradicable, and partly because I found that it helped me with men in bringing up his boy on small means. At this moment I am frightfully made up. But I can cure that.
It is so with this theory of a Renaissance within the middle age, which seeks to establish a continuity between the most characteristic work of the middle age, the sculpture of Chartres and the windows of Le Mans, and the work of the later Renaissance, the work of Jean Cousin and Germain Pilon, and thus heals that rupture between the middle age and the Renaissance which has so often been exaggerated.
The revolt had, in fact, broken out on the 26th of August, 1648; in January, 1649, the Court withdrew to Saint Germain, at the risk of never re-entering Paris; in April, the sword of Condé imposed the treaty of Saint Germain, and the King returned in October. Mazarin shortly afterwards believed himself strong enough to arrest, in January, 1650, Condé, Conti, and Longueville.
Germain, who gave me quarters in his garret. I had no peace nor rest. At night I wandered round Cardillac's house, hoping that Madelon would hear my sighs and lamentings, and perhaps manage to speak to me at the window undiscovered. All sorts of desperate plans, to which I thought I might persuade her, jostled each other in my brain.
If, for instance, Cagliostro had foretold that to-day the Chausee d'Antin would be deserted; that the faubourg would have completely ousted the Rue St. Honore; that the Avenue de la Grande Armee should be, fashionably speaking, dead after a short and brilliant life; and that the little streets of the Faubourg St. Germain should be all that is most chic what fortunes might have been made!
I made two visits this afternoon, one to a pothouse in Belleville, the other to a countess in the Faubourg St. Germain. I went to the former in order to find out what the Bellevillites thought of things in general.
"You shall have your twenty sous, and Barbillon will not pick a quarrel with Germain," said Skeleton. "Then open your ears, for you are going to hear something choice. But here is the rain, which sends in the audience; there will be no need to go after them." In fact, the rain began to fall, the prisoners left the court, and came to take refuge in the hall, accompanied by a keeper.
Marie's features were fresh-looking, and lighted up with a smile, but without any expression of pride, albeit she had some good reason for such a feeling at this moment. Germain was grave and tender in his attentions to his betrothed, like the youthful Jacob saluting Rachel at the wells of Laban.
Even the Faubourg St.-Germain, that still preserved its sympathy for the Bourbons, repaired to the empress at Malmaison. And this pilgrimage was made by the poor and humble, as well as by the rich and great. All wished to say to the empress that they still loved and honored her, and that she was still enthroned in their hearts, although her rule on the throne was at an end.