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Updated: May 6, 2025
Madame de Marsay subsequently married the Marquis de Vordac, but before becoming a marquise she showed very little anxiety as to her son and Lord Dudley. To begin with, the declaration of war between France and England had separated the two lovers, and fidelity at all costs was not, and never will be, the fashion of Paris.
The secret of his character lay in his father's tyranny, which had made him, as it were, a social mongrel. So, one morning, he said to a friend named de Marsay, who afterwards became celebrated: "My dear fellow, life has a meaning." "You must be twenty-seven years of age before you can find it out," replied de Marsay, laughing.
I talk to her of the inconsolable women of Lancashire; she makes allusion to Frenchwomen who dignify their gastric troubles by calling them despair. Thanks to her, I have a mortal enemy in de Marsay, of whom she is very fond. In return, I call her the wife of two generations. So my disaster was complete; it lacked nothing.
Naturally, these are more dangerous than those who play it without a farthing. The young man who called himself a friend of Henri de Marsay was a rattle-head who had come from the provinces, and whom the young men then in fashion were teaching the art of running through an inheritance; but he had one last leg to stand on in his province, in the shape of a secure establishment.
"Ah ca! tell me why!" cried Paul, somewhat piqued. "My dear fellow," replied de Marsay, "Boileau's satire against women is a tissue of poetical commonplaces. Why shouldn't women have defects? Why condemn them for having the most obvious thing in human nature? To my mind, the problem of marriage is not at all at the point where Boileau puts it.
Do not aggravate my sufferings by preaching to me after my fall. Let me go, without the pang of looking backward to my mistakes." The next day Mathias received a bill of exchange for one hundred and fifty thousand francs from de Marsay. "You see," said Paul, "he does not write a word to me. He begins by obliging me.
Between two and four in the afternoon all Paris in the Champs-Elysees had recognized La Torpille, and knew at last who was the object of the Baron de Nucingen's passion. "Do you know," Blondet remarked to de Marsay in the greenroom at the opera-house, "that La Torpille vanished the very day after the evening when we saw her here and recognized her in little Rubempre's mistress."
D'Arthez was an absolutist; the princess could not be ignorant of the opinions of a man who sat in the Chamber among the fifteen or twenty persons who represented the legitimist party; she found means to tell him how she had fooled de Marsay to the top of his bent, then, by an easy transition to the royal family and to "Madame," and the devotion of the Prince de Cadignan to their service, she drew d'Arthez's attention to the prince:
The four newcomers all looked at Lucien while the Marquise was speaking. De Marsay, only a couple of paces away, put up an eyeglass and looked from Lucien to Mme. de Bargeton, and then again at Lucien, coupling them with some mocking thought, cruelly mortifying to both. He scrutinized them as if they had been a pair of strange animals, and then he smiled.
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