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Updated: June 17, 2025
Suddenly he sprang forward; the Duchesse de Mortemain had appeared at the main entrance. "Hasn't the Countess arrived yet?" she inquired of Bertin. "I have not seen her." "And Monsieur de Musadieu?" "I have not seen him either." "He promised me to be here at ten o'clock, at the top of the stairs, to show me around the principal galleries." "Will you permit me to take his place, Duchess?" "No, no.
Weeks followed weeks, without changing this manner of life, and autumn came, bringing the reopening of the Chamber, earlier than usual because of certain political dangers. On the day of the reopening, the Comte de Guilleroy was to take to the meeting of Parliament Madame de Mortemain, the Marquis, and Annette, after a breakfast at his own house.
When Madame de Guilleroy, as the bride of a month, had entered society, she was presented to the Duchesse de Mortemain, who loved her immediately, adopted her, and patronized her. For twenty years this friendship never had diminished, and when the Duchess said, "Ma petite," one still heard in her voice the tenderness of that sudden and persistent affection.
She blushed suddenly, up to the white brow, where the waves of hair began to ripple, and resumed, with an air of slight confusion: "Mamma told me to say to you that she will be down immediately, and to ask you whether you will go to the Bois de Boulogne with us." "Yes, certainly. You are alone?" "No; with the Duchesse de Mortemain." "Very well; I will go."
"When are you coming to dine?" she asked suddenly. "Whenever you wish. Name your day." "Friday. I shall have the Duchesse de Mortemain, the Corbelles, and Musadieu, in honor of my daughter's return she is coming this evening. But do not speak of it, my friend. It is a secret." "Oh, yes, I accept. I shall be charmed to see Annette again. I have not seen her in three years." "Yes, that is true.
The Marquis de Farandal, who was the brother of the Duchesse de Mortemain, after almost ruining himself at the gaming table, had died of the effects of a fall from his horse, leaving a widow and a son.
She was the widow of General the Duc de Mortemain, mother of an only daughter married to the Prince de Salia; daughter of the Marquis de Farandal, of high family and royally rich, and received at her mansion in the Rue de Varenne all the celebrities of the world, who met and complimented one another there.
Musadieu, surprised and embarrassed, defended himself, tried to explain and to excuse himself. "Allow me to say," he remarked at last, "that I heard this story just before I came here, in the drawing-room of the Duchesse de Mortemain." "Who told it to you? A woman, no doubt," said Bertin. "No, not at all; it was the Marquis de Farandal."
"It is so nice to be slender. I intend to reduce myself at once." But Madame de Mortemain took offense, forgetting in her anger the presence of a young girl. "Oh, of course, you are all in favor of bones, because you can dress them better than flesh. For my part, I belong to the generation of fat women! To-day is the day of thin ones. They make me think of the lean kine of Egypt.
Madame de Mortemain, foreseeing and divining his plans, lent him her silent complicity; and on that very day, although she had not been informed of the sudden return of the young girl, she had made an appointment with her nephew to meet her at the Guilleroys, so that he might gradually become accustomed to visit that house frequently.
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