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The ministers, Montoux and Bastie, with others who had been confined at Turin, now hastened to meet their brethren. Everywhere they seemed treated with confidence; and, in conjunction with the Duke's troops, they made several successful attacks upon the French.
Not only has he not seen fit to renew the conversation so provokingly interrupted by Madame de la Bastie, but he has not even remembered that it was proper to leave his card at the house after a dinner. "What is that?" I said to Lucas, on whose face I detected the signs of a "surprise," at the same time putting out my hand to uncover the mysterious article.
I'm the cast and he's to be the statue, is he? It is the old fable of Bertrand and Raton. Six millions, a beauty, a Mignon de La Bastie, an aristocratic divinity loving poetry and the poet!
"And regret the time lost," added the Duc de Verneuil, with courteous admiration. "Monsieur le Comte de La Bastie," said the grand equerry, taking the colonel by the arm and presenting him to the duke and duchess, with an air of respect in his tone and gesture. "I am glad to welcome you, Monsieur le comte!" said Monsieur de Verneuil.
Charles Mignon, the last scion of an ancient family, which gave its name to a street in Paris and to a mansion built by Cardinal Mignon, had a shrewd and calculating father, whose one idea was to save his feudal estate of La Bastie in the Comtat from the claws of the Revolution.
A fine copy of the Forteresse du Foy belonged to Claude d'Urfé, whose library of 4000 books, 'all in green velvet, was kept in his castle at La Bastie; when all the others were dispersed the Gruthuyse volume remained as an heirloom, and descended to Honoré d'Urfé, the dreariest of all writers of romance.
"Ah, good morning, dear Hortense!" said Mademoiselle d'Herouville, kissing the duchess with the sympathy that united their haughty natures; "let me present to you and to the dear duke our little angel, Mademoiselle de La Bastie." "We have heard so much of you, mademoiselle," said the duchess, "that we were in haste to receive you."
The poor fellow has fallen in love with a certain Mademoiselle Modeste de La Bastie, a rather pale, insignificant, and thread-papery little thing, who, by the way, has the vice of liking literature, and calls herself a poet to excuse the caprices and humors of a rather sullen nature. You know Ernest, he is so easy to catch that I have been afraid to leave him to himself.
"The Comte de La Bastie must build you one like it," replied her father. "Here, monsieur," said Modeste, giving the bit of paper to Ernest; "carry it to our friend and put him out of his misery." The word our friend struck the young man's heart.
We have to talk about your poems, Mademoiselle de La Bastie."
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