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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Young man!" exclaimed the old maid. "It seems to me, uncle, that he must be at least forty-five." She felt the strongest desire to put their years on a par. "Yes," said the abbe; "but to a poor priest of seventy, Rose, a man of forty seems a youth." All Alencon knew by this time that Monsieur de Troisville had arrived at the Cormons.
After several attempts, the Duchesse de Carigliano found a match for the general in one of the three branches of the Troisville family, that of the viscount in the service of Russia ever since 1789, who had returned to France in 1815. The viscount, poor as a younger son, had married a Princess Scherbellof, worth about a million, but the arrival of two sons and three daughters kept him poor.
The silent abbe left his niece to throw the dice of conversation; and she truly felt that she pleased Monsieur de Troisville, who smiled at her gracefully, and committed himself during this dinner far more than her most eager suitors had ever done in ten days.
Never did two chemicals blend into each other with greater rapidity than the hotel Cormon displayed in absorbing the Vicomte de Troisville. Mademoiselle, whose heart was beating like a lizard caught by a herdsman, sat heroically still on her sofa, beside the fire in the salon.
In like manner this poor woman trembled lest she should see on the lips of Monsieur de Troisville a smile of contempt for this episcopal salon; she dreaded the cold look he might cast over that ancient dining-room; in short, she feared the frame might injure and age the portrait. Suppose these antiquities should cast a reflected light of old age upon herself? This question made her flesh creep.
If we had to give him breakfast, where should we be with nothing in the house?" Mariette turned back to Penelope in a lather, and looked at Jacquelin as if she would say, "Mademoiselle has put her hand on a husband this time." "Now, Josette," continued the old maid, "let us see where we had better put Monsieur de Troisville to sleep." How many ideas in those few words!
At the end of two weeks, the faction of unbelief received a vigorous blow in the sale of du Bousquier's house to the Marquis de Troisville, who only wanted a simple establishment in Alencon, intending to go to Paris after the death of the Princess Scherbellof; he proposed to await that inheritance in retirement, and then to reconstitute his estates. This seemed positive.
How many of us, now speaking man to man can open up our veiled thoughts and desires and then look the Ten Commandments in the eye without blushing? The bravest, noblest, gentlest gentleman I have ever known was the Count de la Fere, whom we at the Hotel de Troisville, in old Paris, called "Athos." He was not merely sans peur et sans reproche as Bayard, but was positive in his virtues.
Monsieur de Valois. "Monsieur le vicomte has come, I am told, to settle in Alencon?" Monsieur de Troisville. Monsieur de Valois. "Are you married?" Monsieur de Troisville. "Yes, for the last sixteen years, to a daughter of the Princess Scherbellof."
The ineffable happiness of the son of a shop-keeper of the faubourg Saint-Antoine in possessing a young, elegant, intelligent, and gentle wife, a Troisville, who had given him an entrance into all the salons of the faubourg Saint-Germain, and the delight of making her enjoy the pleasures of Paris, had kept him from Les Aigues and made him forget about Gaubertin, even to his very name.
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