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〃Less the king； my dear。 Ah！ I wish I could evoke the shades of those
women； and ask them〃
〃But；〃 said the marquise； interrupting the princess； 〃why ask the
dead？ We know living women who have been happy。 I have talked on this
very subject a score of times with Madame de Montcornet since she
married that little Emile Blondet； who makes her the happiest woman in
the world； not an infidelity； not a thought that turns aside from her；
they are as happy as they were the first day。 These long attachments；
like that of Rastignac and Madame de Nucingen； and your cousin； Madame
de Camps； for her Octave； have a secret； and that secret you and I
don't know； my dear。 The world has paid us the extreme compliment of
thinking we are two rakes worthy of the court of the regent； whereas
we are； in truth； as innocent as a couple of school…girls。〃
〃I should like that sort of innocence；〃 cried the princess； laughing；
〃but ours is worse； and it is very humiliating。 Well； it is a
mortification we offer up in expiation of our fruitless search； yes；
my dear； fruitless； for it isn't probable we shall find in our autumn
season the fine flower we missed in the spring and summer。〃
〃That's not the question；〃 resumed the marquise； after a meditative
pause。 〃We are both still beautiful enough to inspire love； but we
could never convince any one of our innocence and virtue。〃
〃If it were a lie； how easy to dress it up with commentaries； and
serve it as some delicious fruit to be eagerly swallowed！ But how is
it possible to get a truth believed？ Ah！ the greatest of men have been
mistaken there！〃 added the princess； with one of those meaning smiles
which the pencil of Leonardo da Vinci alone has rendered。
〃Fools love well； sometimes；〃 returned the marquise。
〃But in this case；〃 said the princess； 〃fools wouldn't have enough
credulity in their nature。〃
〃You are right；〃 said the marquise。 〃But what we ought to look for is
neither a fool nor even a man of talent。 To solve our problem we need
a man of genius。 Genius alone has the faith of childhood； the religion
of love； and willingly allows us to band its eyes。 Look at Canalis and
the Duchesse de Chaulieu！ Though we have both encountered men of
genius； they were either too far removed from us or too busy； and we
too absorbed； too frivolous。〃
〃Ah！ how I wish I might not leave this world without knowing the
happiness of true love；〃 exclaimed the princess。
〃It is nothing to inspire it；〃 said Madame d'Espard； 〃the thing is to
feel it。 I see many women who are only the pretext for a passion
without being both its cause and its effect。〃
〃The last love I inspired was a beautiful and sacred thing；〃 said the
princess。 〃It had a future in it。 Chance had brought me； for once in a
way； the man of genius who is due to us； and yet so difficult to
obtain； there are more pretty women than men of genius。 But the devil
interfered with the affair。〃
〃Tell me about it； my dear； this is all news to me。〃
〃I first noticed this beautiful passion about the middle of the winter
of 1829。 Every Friday； at the opera； I observed a young man； about
thirty years of age； in the orchestra stalls； who evidently came there
for me。 He was always in the same stall； gazing at me with eyes of
fire； but； seemingly； saddened by the distance between us； perhaps by
the hopelessness of reaching me。〃
〃Poor fellow！ When a man loves he becomes eminently stupid；〃 said the
marquise。
〃Between every act he would slip into the corridor；〃 continued the
princess； smiling at her friend's epigrammatic remark。 〃Once or twice；
either to see me or to make me see him； he looked through the glass
sash of the box exactly opposite to mine。 If I received a visit； I was
certain to see him in the corridor close to my door； casting a furtive
glance upon me。 He had apparently learned to know the persons
belonging to my circle； and he followed them when he saw them turning
in the direction of my box； in order to obtain the benefit of the
opening door。 I also found my mysterious adorer at the Italian opera…
house； there he had a stall directly opposite to my box； where he
could gaze at me in naive ecstasyoh！ it was pretty！ On leaving
either house I always found him planted in the lobby； motionless； he
was elbowed and jostled； but he never moved。 His eyes grew less
brilliant if he saw me on the arm of some favorite。 But not a word；
not a letter； no demonstration。 You must acknowledge that was in good
taste。 Sometimes； on getting home late at night； I found him sitting
upon one of the stone posts of the porte…cochere。 This lover of mine
had very handsome eyes； a long； thick； fan…shaped beard； with a
moustache and side…whiskers； nothing could be seen of his skin but his
white cheek…bones； and a noble forehead； it was truly an antique head。
The prince； as you know； defended the Tuileries on the riverside；
during the July days。 He returned to Saint…Cloud that night； when all
was lost； and said to me： 'I came near being killed at four o'clock。 I
was aimed at by one of the insurgents； when a young man； with a long
beard； whom I have often seen at the opera； and who was leading the
attack； threw up the man's gun； and saved me。' So my adorer was
evidently a republican！ In 1831； after I came to lodge in this house；
I found him； one day； leaning with his back against the wall of it； he
seemed pleased with my disasters； possibly he may have thought they
drew us nearer together。 But after the affair of Saint…Merri I saw him
no more； he was killed there。 The evening before the funeral of
General Lamarque； I had gone out on foot with my son； and my
republican accompanied us； sometimes behind； sometimes in front； from
the Madeleine to the Passage des Panoramas； where I was going。〃
〃Is that all？〃 asked the marquise。
〃Yes； all；〃 replied the princess。 〃Except that on the morning Saint…
Merri was taken； a gamin came here and insisted on seeing me。 He gave
me a letter； written on common paper； signed by my republican。〃
〃Show it to me；〃 said the marquise。
〃No； my dear。 Love was too great and too sacred in the heart of that
man to let me violate its secrets。 The letter； short and terrible；
still stirs my soul when I think of it。 That dead man gives me more
emotions than all the living men I ever coquetted with； he constantly
recurs to my mind。〃
〃What was his name？〃 asked the marquise。
〃Oh！ a very common one： Michel Chrestien。〃
〃You have done well to tell me；〃 said Madame d'Espard； eagerly。 〃I
have often heard of him。 This Michel Chrestien was the intimate friend
of a remarkable man you have already expressed a wish to see；Daniel
d'Arthez； who comes to my house some two or three times a year。
Chrestien； who was really killed at Saint…Merri； had no lack of
friends。 I have heard it said that he was one of those born statesmen
to whom； like de Marsay； nothing is wanting but opportunity to become
all they might