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Updated: June 26, 2025
Suzanne, who had no doubt heard of du Bousquier's proposed marriage, acknowledged her trick, sent a thousand francs to the society, and did all the harm she could to the old purveyor.
Sorrow often falls like a thunderbolt, as it did on Madame Granson; but in this old maid it slowly spread like a drop of oil, which never leaves the stuff that slowly imbibes it. The Chevalier de Valois was the malicious manipulator who brought about the crowning misfortune of Madame du Bousquier's life.
The immorality of his private life, his intimacy with Barras and Bernadotte, displeased the First Consul even more than his manoeuvres at the Bourse, and he struck du Bousquier's name from the list of the government contractors.
Sorrow often falls like a thunderbolt, as it did on Madame Granson; but in this old maid it slowly spread like a drop of oil, which never leaves the stuff that slowly imbibes it. The Chevalier de Valois was the malicious manipulator who brought about the crowning misfortune of Madame du Bousquier's life.
In 1819, the property of the Abbe de Sponde increased Madame du Bousquier's income from real estate to twenty-five thousand francs without counting Prebaudet or the house in the Val-Noble.
"We have her! now let us find out the secret of the case," were the words written in the eyes of all present. "To make your happiness complete," said Mademoiselle Armande, "you ought to have children, a fine lad like my nephew " Tears seemed to start in Madame du Bousquier's eyes.
Suzanne, who had no doubt heard of du Bousquier's proposed marriage, acknowledged her trick, sent a thousand francs to the society, and did all the harm she could to the old purveyor.
Du Bousquier's aversion to the Imperial government had thrown him at first into the royalist circles of Alencon, where he remained in spite of the rebuffs he received there; but when, after the first return of the Bourbons, he was still excluded from the prefecture, that mortification inspired him with a hatred as deep as it was secret against the royalists.
After a few more words of funeral oration, in which all present spoke from the heart, the chevalier took Madame du Bousquier's arm, and, gallantly placing it within his own, pressed it adoringly as he led her to the recess of a window. "Are you happy?" he said in a fatherly voice. "Yes," she said, dropping her eyes.
"But you are crazy, my dear; you don't know what you are wishing for; a child would be your death." Many men, whose hopes were fastened on du Bousquier's triumph, sang his praises to their wives, who in turn repeated them to the poor wife in some such speech as this:
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