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Updated: May 27, 2025
He certainly knew who we were, but etiquette required him to wait until my father had presented us; but immediately then he asked papa's permission to kiss us, and you may suppose your grandfather did not refuse. M. du Clozel had been sent by the baroness to oppose our sojourn at the inn, and to bring us back with him. "Run, put on your hoods," said papa; "we will wait for you here." Mr. and Mrs.
We started on our walk, moving slowly, scanning the houses and listening to the strains of music that reached us from the distance. It seemed but a dream that at any moment might vanish. On our return to the inn, papa threw his letters upon the table and began to examine their addresses. "To whom will you carry the first letter, papa?" I asked. "To the Baron du Clozel," he replied.
Madame du Clozel had told us that the population of the little city all Catholics was very pious, that the little church could hardly contain the crowd of worshipers; and Celeste had said that there was a grand display of dress there.
"The Countess Madelaine is going to faint!" derisively whispered Olivier in my ear. "Who," asked Suzanne, "is Tréville de Saint Julien?" "He is 'the hermit of Bayou Tortue," responded the gentle Celeste de Blanc. "What pretense of simplicity, look you!" said Charles du Clozel, glancing towards him disdainfully.
She could hardly have been over sixteen or seventeen. One could easily guess by her dress that the pretty creature was the slave of fashion. "Madame du Rocher," said Charles du Clozel, throwing a wicked glance upon her. "Madame!" I stammered. "Impossible!" cried Suzanne. "Don't listen to him!" interrupted the young lady, striking Charles's fingers with her fan. "He is a wretched falsifier.
The baroness, though not young, was still pretty, and so elegant, so majestic! A few days later I could add, so good, so lovable! Celeste du Clozel was eighteen. Her hair was black as ebony, and her eyes a beautiful blue. She was engaged, we learned afterward, to the Chevalier de Blanc, the same who in 1803 was made post-commandant of Attakapas.
"Do not let her know a thing about it, girls," said Madame du Clozel, "or, rather than yield the scepter of beauty and elegance for but one evening, she will stay in the white chapel. What! at sixteen you don't know what the white chapel is? It is our bed." Before the ball, came Sunday.
With what impatience we awaited his return! About two hours afterward we saw papa coming back accompanied by a gentleman of a certain age, handsome, noble, elegant in his severe suit of black velvet. He had the finest black eyes in the world, and his face beamed with wit and amiability. You have guessed it was the Baron du Clozel. The baron bowed to us profoundly.
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