The Stepmother, A Drama in Five Acts

vents the total ruin she had caused by her own extravagance. The prince left France with the royal family, and never returned to it, leaving the princess in Paris, protected by the fact of his a

amily were in as bad a state as those

forgotten. Paris was then so carried away by the whirling current of events that the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, buried in the Princesse de Cadignan, a c

still, at least, nominally; witness the care with which the kings of France give to their sons the simple title of count. It was in virtue of this system that Francois I. crushed the splendid titles assumed by the pompous Charles the Fifth, by signing his answer: "Francois, seig

is one of these exceptional families. Like the princes of the house of Rohan in earlier days, the princes of Cadignan had the right to a throne in their own domain; they could have pages and gentlemen in their service. This explanation

heraldry, are beginning to bring the title of prince into fashion. There are no real princes but those possessed of principalities, to whom belongs the title of highness. The disdain shown by the French nobility for the title of prince, and the reasons which caused Louis XIV. to

beauty, the only thing she saved of her departed opulence. Society, of which she had once been the ornament, was thankful to her for having, as it were, taken the veil, and cloistered herself in her own home. This act of good ta

opera, leaving the first tier for a baignoire on the ground-floor, so that Madame de Cadignan could come to the theatre unseen, and depart incognito. Few women would have been capable of a delicacy which deprived them of the pleasure of bearing in their train a fallen rival, and of publicly being her benefactress. Thus relieved of the necessity for costly toilets, the princess could

ty-six years of age, but quite justified in calling herself thirty, although she was the mother of Duc Georges de Maufrigneuse, a young man of eighteen, handsome as Antinous, poor as Job, who was expected to obtain great successes, and for whom his mother desired, above all things, to find a rich wife. Perhaps this hope was the secret of the intimacy she still kept up with the m

the portrait of "Madame", who was always her kind friend. On a table lay an album of costliest price, such as none of the bourgeoises who now lord it in our industrial and fault-finding society would have dared to exhibit. This album contained portraits, about thirty in number, of her intimate friends, whom the world, first and last, had given her as lovers. The number was a calumny; but had rumor said ten, it might have been, as her friend Madame d'Espard remarked, good, sound gossip.

was, moreover, one of those children who flatter the vanities of a mother; and the princess had, accordingly, made all sorts of sacrifices for him. She hired a stable and coach-house, above which he lived in a little entresol with three rooms looking on the street, and charmingly furnished; she had even borne several privations to keep a saddle-horse, a cab-horse, and a little groom for his use. For herself, she had only her own maid, and as cook, a former kitchen-maid. The duke's

little abode in the rue de Miromesnil, a few steps away from her splendid mansion, which no amount of fortune had enabled her to keep, and which the hammer of speculators has since demolished. The woman who thought she was scarcely well served by thirty servants, who possessed the most

Who would ever have believed so frivolous a woman was capable of such persistent resolution! Our good archbishop has, consequ

her to a flower), the princess had wisely chosen a ground-floor apartment; there she enjoyed a pretty little garden which belonged to it,-a garden full of shrubs, and an always verdant turf, which brightened her peaceful retreat. She had about twelve thousand francs a year; but that modest income was partly made up of an annual stipend sent her by the old Duchesse de Navarreins, paternal aunt of the young duke, and another stipend given by her mother, the Duchesse d'Uxelles, who was living on her estate in the country, w

s said that Diane was writing a book. Since her transformation from a queen and beauty to a woman of intellect, the princess had contrived to make a reception in her little house a great honor which distinguished the favored person. Sheltered by her supposed occupation, she was able to deceive one of her former adorers, de Marsay, the most influential personage of the political bourgeoisie brought to the fore in July 1830. She received him some

the moment she saw that her cause was lost. Perhaps, had he remained, the eager vigilance of the young man might have foiled that treachery. However great the faults of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse may have seemed in the eyes of the bourgeoisie, the behavior of her son on this occasion certainly effaced them in the eyes of the aristocracy. There was grea

walking-in the single path which wound round the grass-plat in the garden, about half-past two in the afternoon, just as the sun was leavi

disappear your last hope of fortune for your son. Ever since you pla

rincess, "if he has to die of hunger, or I have to work with my hand

ves to their parents' princi

x over the Marquise de Cinq-Cygne, I shall marry Georges to the

icturnien?" ask

city was really only a sort of provincial silliness, which

de Ma

s so young at the time! We never love men who prete

ched boy who h

ight have been happy. But he was in love with a girl of the town; and I gave him

you should come into co

one can I dare to say that I feel I am happy. I was surfeited with adoration, weary of pleasure, emotional on the surface of things, but conscious that emotion itself never reached my heart. I have found all th

the marquise; "have you never felt th

ncess, laying her hand o

jasmine then coming into flower. Each had uttered one of tho

as fast as I approached it. I feel to-day in my heart, old as it is, an innocence which has never been touched. Yes, under all my experience, lies a first love intact,-just as I myself, in spite of all my losses and fat

," said Mad

dreadful regret: I have amused myself a

ble secret!" cri

secrets we can tell to ourselves, you and

both over thirty-six years of age, perha

its," replied the princess. "We are like those poor young

tish grace, and a charming gesture of well-informed innocence; "and

of it all night long," said the princess, after a pause. "I suppose there was ha

delighted to get rid of Conti. Beatrix never perceived how that surrender, made by a s

ink she will

pard. "Why did she leave her husband

was not influenced by the desire to enjoy

e it said, between you and me, would have been, in a less vulgar period than ou

wish I could evoke the shades

r 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

iating. Well, it is a mortification we offer up in expiation of our fruitless search; yes, my dear, fruitless,

ive pause. "We are both still beautiful enough to inspire love,

y swallowed! But how is it possible to get a truth believed? Ah! the greatest of men have been mistaken there!"

sometimes," retu

incess, "fools wouldn't have en

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 d

s world without knowing the happiness

ing is to feel it. I see many women who are only the pretext

t. Chance had brought me, for once in a way, the man of genius who is due to us, and yet so difficult

, my dear; this i

man, about thirty years of age, in the orchestra stalls, who evidently came there for me. He was always in the same stall, ga

oves he becomes eminently

ound 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 b

l?" asked t

-Merri was taken, a gamin came here and insisted on seeing me. He g

me," said

crets. The letter, short and terrible, still stirs my soul when I think of it. That dead man give

name?" asked

mmon one: Mich

ve 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 l

e princess, with a melancholy air, un

ing and meet d'Arthez?" said the mar

," replied t