CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THIS BOOK IS ONE OF 
 A COLLECTION MADE BY 
 
 BENNO LOEWY 
 
 1854-1919 
 
 AND BEQUEATHED TO 
 CORNELL UNIVERSITY 
 
DATE DUE 
 
 Cornell University Library 
 PQ 2242.M3 1876 
 
 Marriage in high life / 
 
 3 1924 027 373 103 
 

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 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
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A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
OCTAVE FBUILLET, 
 
 author of 
 
 ' The Romance of a Poor Younb Mas." 
 
Marriage in High Life. 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH OF 
 
 OCTAVE FEUILLET, 
 
 ACTHOR OF "THE ROMANCE OF A POOR YOUNG VAN," ETC, 
 
 CELIA LOG 
 
 *4 
 
 PHILADELPHIA! 
 
 PORTER AND COATES, 
 
 No. S2Z Chestnut Street. 
 
//7 3 
 fZS'S'l 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by 
 
 PORTER & COAXES, 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
 
 B. M. DdSDHBEBT, HiHBT B. ASHHIAD, 
 
 Blxrealyper amd Ma^rctyper. Printer, 
 
MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A /T ADAME DE LA VEYLE, widow of the Rear- 
 Admiral de Lorris, had espoused in her second 
 nuptials the General Marquis de la Veyle. Happy 
 in her choice, in these two successive unions, the mar- 
 quise made it a duty, pious and diverting at the same 
 time, to propagate in others a taste for an institution 
 which she had only cause to praise. She was pos- 
 sessed with a passion for marrying people. The per- 
 sonal consideration which she enjoyed, the aristocratic 
 relations with whom she was connected, and her 
 
 remarkable success in several difficult operations, had 
 
 (5) 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 secured for her the confidence of the public. Above all 
 she had, as she herself said, a good sign at her door-^ 
 her daughter-in-law, Louise de Lorris. M. de Lorris 
 was an officer of marines, and his frequent and pro- 
 longed absences Imposed upon his young wife a deli- 
 cate ro/e, in which she acquitted herself in a manner 
 so meritorious as to reflect great honor upon the dis- 
 cernment of her mother-in-law. 
 
 Madame de la Veyle received on Thursday evenings. 
 Her Thursdays were chilling, although there was music. 
 Those who attended them breathed there an air of 
 mystery. One met there unknown persons, wearers 
 of white cravats, who often failed to make a second 
 appearance. Young girls suddenly burst into sobs, 
 without anybody knowing why. AH this threw a 
 chill over the drawing-room parties. 
 
 On that evening the marquise accomplished a work 
 of pure charity, that of promoting marriages among 
 an inferior diss, from which she expected no other 
 reward than the satisfaction of her conscience. 
 
A MABBIA6E IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 A poor cousin of the general — whom they simply 
 called " Edward " about the house — was about to be 
 offered to the daughter of a professor of Sainte-Barbe. 
 Edward was a timid, awkward young man, with 
 mediocre face and figure, so that it was not eajsy to 
 introduce him with any eclat; but he had one measur- 
 ably redeeming qualification, in that he was a musician 
 and played passably well upon the flute. Madame de 
 la Veyle had decided that he should be presented in 
 this character. 
 
 " I know very well," she said, "that the flute is an 
 instrument which does not appeal very forcibly to the 
 imagination; still, it is the most brilliant side of that 
 poor Edward." 
 
 So, it was understood that Edward should, during 
 the course of the evening, execute a morceau upon the 
 flute", in which he would be assisted by the General and 
 Madame de Lorris. When the moment came, Madame 
 de Lorris gave the key by striking a chord upon the 
 piano and the general sounded it upon the violoncello. 
 
A MABRIAQE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 Edward having essayed to strike the key, suddenly 
 crossed the parlor, stepping very quietly and cau- 
 tiously, knelt before the fire, unscrewed his flute and 
 began carefully warming its sections. 
 
 "What is he doing there?" said Madame de la 
 Veyle, while the professor's daughter exchanged 
 smiles with her family. " What a singular proceeding ! 
 Why do you warm your flute ?" 
 
 " In order to raise its pitch," answered Edward. 
 
 " Indeed ! It has that effect ! That is strange. I 
 can hardly believe it, my friend. However, everything 
 is possible." 
 
 Edward, intimidated by the silence and constraint 
 of those about him, arose a little hastily and made 
 another endeavor to fall into accord with the General 
 and Mad. de Lorris, who once more, with unwearied 
 kindness, gave him the key. But his ear was not yet 
 satisfied, and retaking his humble posture on the 
 hearth, he a second time exposed the sections of his 
 flute to the warmth of the fire. This unhappy second 
 
A MARRIAGE IN BI6H LIFE. 
 
 offence called forth a dull murmur of mingled disap- 
 probation and hilarity all around the room. The 
 professor's daughter, redder than a tomato, directed 
 an eloquently supplicatory glance at her mother. 
 
 " My dear Edward," then said the marquise, " that 
 is enough. We cannot spend the entire evening in 
 watching you warm your flute. You should under- 
 stand that. You had better give it up altogether, — 
 let it be for another time — for another time." 
 
 After this painful incident, conversation languished. 
 The professor's family soon took their departure. 
 Poor Edward, in a melancholy manner, replaced his 
 flute in its morocco case, wiped his dejected brow and 
 disappeared. 
 
 "What a beautiful evening!" said the general, 
 shortly afterward, retiring to his bed-room. 
 
 One single person remained in the drawing-room in 
 company with Madame de la Veyle and her daughter- 
 in-law. It was a young man, about thirty years of age, 
 well-made, elegant and with fine, aristocratic features. 
 
lO A MABRIA QE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 The events of the evening appeared to have completely 
 escaped his observation. The little domestic drama 
 which we have just sketched had not awakened any 
 signs of interest or even of attention on his proud 
 and cold visage,, He did not notice the retiring of 
 Edward or the professor's family, merely arose a little 
 from his chair w'hen the general went out, and then 
 languidly resumed his drawing of Turks'-heads in an 
 album. 
 
 " M. de Rias," suddenly said Madame de Lorris to 
 him, " how about my verses ? When ?" 
 
 "This instant madame, if you desire." 
 
 " Ah ! an impromptu ! Bravo !" 
 
 She put before him the album reserved for poetical 
 effusions, and the young man, after two minutes of 
 reflection, wrote rapidly some lines, which he, then 
 presented to Madame de Lorris, with a slight bow. 
 
 " What has this gentleman said to you ?" asked 
 Madame de la Veyle, arousing herself from her 
 sombre meditations, 
 
A MABBIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 1 1 
 
 "Read, mamma," said the young woman. 
 She read gravely : 
 
 "Ah! little delighted, , 
 
 Was the lady to-night 
 By the marquise invited. 
 
 At the laughable sight. 
 Of the glowing fireside haunted. 
 By Edward and his flute enchanted." 
 
 " Ah ! poor boy !" said the marquise ; " instead of 
 using his flute against me like a dagger, you would 
 do better to explain your conduct, which is decidedly 
 unnatural." 
 
 " How ? dear madam." 
 
 " My dear Lionel, I do not deceive myself about 
 my Thursdays. I know that they cannot have any 
 very great attraction for you — for you have been two 
 years without even remembering that they took place. 
 Well, all that I can understand ; but for sometime past 
 you have not missed a single one, and that, I confess, 
 
12 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 puzzles me. Come, frankly now, my friend, what is 
 your object? For whom, or why, do you show such 
 assiduity? Do you come to captivate my daughter- 
 in-law ? or do you wish that I shall marry you off?" 
 " Tell me first, have I a choice ?" replied Lionel. 
 " Must I leave the room, mamma?" cried Madame 
 de Lorris gayly, arching her swan-like neck and 
 showing her pretty head above her embroidery. 
 
 " Madame ! dear god-mother !" appealed M. de Rias, 
 " keep Madame de Lorris, I pray you ! Since you 
 appear to be going to preach up marriage, dp not 
 deprive yourself of such a strong argument." 
 
 " Indeed, you think that, my friend," said the mar- 
 quise with sparkling eyes. "Well, you charm me; 
 positively you charm me. Here is at length a deli- 
 cious compensation for the annoyances of this evening. 
 I have no need to tell you, my dear Lionel, with what 
 zeal I shall put myself at your commands, out of 
 friendship for you and also for the affectionate memory 
 I have of your poor mother. But, since we are going 
 
A MARRIA GE IN HIGH LIFE. 1 3 
 
 to talk, if the presence of my daughter-in-law embar- 
 rasses you " 
 
 % 
 Madame de Lorris half arose and spread out her 
 
 arms like two wings, in an attitude of smiling interro- 
 gation and ready submission. 
 
 "No, no, I conjure you," said Lionel; "the pres- 
 ence of Madame de Lorris is not only agreeable but 
 useful to me ; she sustains me in this hour of trial ; 
 she shows me marriage in a light " 
 
 "Ah! permit me, my friend," said the old marquise; 
 " you must not pay court to Madame de Lorris on the 
 pretext of a fictitious marriage^ You shall not deceive 
 me with that play ; but, remain ; keep your seat, 
 daughter ; we will see." 
 
 " Very well," replied the young wife, again taking 
 up her embroidery. 
 
 " Come now, ray friend," continued Madame de la 
 Veyle. "Is it serious? Are you decided to settle 
 down and make an end of it ?" 
 
 " I have not any great end to make," modestly 
 
14 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 replied M. de Rias, " but I have always had an inten- 
 tion of marrying some day. It is the custom of my 
 femily to do so; besides I am now thirty years old, and 
 it seems to me right and decent at least that I should 
 present myself at the altar while I am still presentable. 
 I may add, in order to calm Madame de Lorris — who 
 is throwing terrifying looks at me — that I am inclined 
 toward marriage by other considerations of a less 
 positive nature ; that I am not a stranger to certain 
 honest and tender sentiments, although I do not like 
 to make a parade of them; that I can be haunted, like 
 other men,i by imaginings of sweet intimacy and 
 domestic happiness ; that the idea has come to me of 
 seeing in my home, when I enter it, a graceful young 
 head bent beneath the gas light over her embroidery 
 which may not be indifferent to me; and that, in 
 short, I shall be happy to see filled, in a manner so 
 Worthy and charming, the empty place that my 
 mother has left in my house." 
 
 "That is admirable," said the old lady, "I may 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. ■ 15 
 
 even say that it touches me. Your hand, dear 
 fnend." 
 
 M. de Hias respectfully kissed the hand she held 
 out to him and replied laughingly, "And now for 
 the chapter of objections." 
 
 " What objections ! my friend But I know them ; 
 you need not tell them to me. There are mar- 
 riages which turn out badly. Is that what you 
 mean ? There are unhappy households in the world ; 
 well " 
 
 " There are indeed, a great many," assented Lionel. 
 
 " Well, but what can you do ? Certainly there are 
 wicked men, and there are fools and awkward people, 
 and so much the worse for them." 
 
 " You do not pretend to try and make me believe 
 that it always depends upon the man himself to be 
 happy or unhappy in marriage l" < ^/ 
 
 " I beg your pardon, I do pretend to try and 
 make you believe it. because it is the truth. Look 
 at the wives of sailors! why are they all models 
 
l6 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 of good conduct? (Bow, my daughter.) It is be- 
 cause their husbands are not with them to spoil the 
 situation." 
 
 " But, my dear god-mother, you will admit that 
 there are monsters who are unaffected by either the 
 presehce or the absence of their husbands." 
 
 " No, my friend, there are no monsters ; or, if there 
 are any thfey are rare, exceedingly rare. It is a mania 
 that men have now-a-days of insisting that all. women 
 are monsters at birth. That is very convenient ; one 
 is no longer responsible. But you may be very sure 
 that I will not give you a monster ; I will answer for 
 that. Louise," continued she, addressing her daugh- 
 ter-in-law, " do you know of whom I am thinking for 
 him?" 
 
 The young woman raised her clear eyes to the 
 ceiling for a moment, then letting them fall upon her 
 mother-in-law. she said, " Marie." 
 
 "Exactly. I see them together already. That 
 is the same idea you have had, is it, not? For the 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 17 
 
 matter of that, this marriage has been In my head for 
 a long time." 
 
 " Marie," said M. de Rias, " is a pretty name when 
 it is well worn ; but permit me a question : is Made- 
 moiselle Marie aParisienne?" 
 
 " As Parisian as it is possible to be," replied M ■ 
 dame de Lorris. 
 
 " That is enough ; I formally refuse the candidate." 
 
 "Why ?" asked the marquise. 
 
 " Because I know how young girls are brought 
 up in Paris, and without cherishing any grand illu- 
 sions concerning rural innocence, I believe that I 
 would have a better chance in taking my wife from 
 the provinces." 
 
 " Oh ! do not do that !" cried the marquise. " What 
 
 an idea! taking a wife from the provinces — as one 
 
 takes a domestic. Do you know what happens to the 
 
 domestics that you bring from the provinces ? Paris 
 
 intoxicates them, turns their heads, and they are the 
 
 worst of alJ. You would have a clumsy woman, who 
 2 
 
1 8 A MABBIA GE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 would not know how to conduct herself, who would 
 have red hands, of whom you would be ashamed, and 
 who would still be no less likely to deceive you than 
 any other. You see, my friend, in reality there are 
 dangers everywhere, and therefore we should choose 
 those which are least ridiculous." 
 
 " But, I must say," cried Lionel, pleasantly, " I do 
 not comprehend you. I thought you were going to 
 excite and encourage me ; but all you say to me is 
 terrifying." 
 
 " I assure you, mamma," said Madame de Lorris, 
 laughing heartily, " that you are by no means reassur- 
 ing. 
 
 " How shall I answer him, my dear ? He would 
 like to have a marriage without inconvenience, with- 
 out danger, without bad lufik, offered him on a silver 
 salver, like all the rest of the men. Well, I have none 
 of that kind to offer, for the simple reason that there are 
 none. As a general rule; my dear, I marry only those 
 people who unite in themselves sufficient elements of 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. ig 
 
 agreement and happiness. I know, for example, a 
 well-born and well-dowered young girl who can make 
 an admirable wife ; I know, on the other hand, a 
 genteel young man, the soul of honor, almost charm- 
 ing — I mean you, godson^ by the way — I marry them ; 
 the affair, so far as I am concem^d^ is finished ; the 
 rest concerns them alone. I marry you, and after that; 
 God help you ! Besides, dear Lionel, at the point 
 where you are, your reflections, your objections, your 
 rfefasoning, all go for nothing. You have told us your 
 symptoms ; they are decisive. You are ripe ; permit 
 yourself to be plucked, and do not struggle." 
 
 " But truly," said Lionel, in a serious tone, " I am 
 not so decided as you think, and I desire to reflect 
 farther." 
 
 " Do soj my friend, only while you are thinking 
 about it my rarfest bird may fly away." 
 
 " Ah ! well, let her fly," answered the young man, 
 taking his hat as if to withdraw. He did not retire, 
 however^ but, leaning his back • against the mantel- 
 
20 ^ MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 piece, sighed a long sigh and said, in a sort of mel- 
 ancholy murmur, " Marry, — well, so be it. I don't 
 ask anything better than to marry to-morrow morn- 
 ing." 
 
 The old marquise turned toward Madame de Lorris 
 and said to her, with an air of comic gravity: "You 
 are present, daughter, at a touching scene — the last 
 struggles of a bachelor." 
 
 Lionel laughed. 
 
 " Tell me," he replied, " how she has been brought 
 up — your young lady ?" 
 
 " My friend," said the old marquise, " she has been 
 brought up in a tower, by the fairies. Does that suit 
 you ?" 
 
 " Is she one of your friends ?" the young man asked 
 of Madame de Lorris. 
 
 " Yes, sir, and I like her very much." 
 
 " That is something." 
 
 " Oh ! goodness," cried the marquise, " we have 
 had enough of mystery. She is not only her friend, 
 
A MAREIA OE IN HIGH LIFE. 2 1 
 
 she is her cousin and her name is Mademoiselle Fitz- 
 Gerald." 
 
 " Mademoiselle Fitz-Gerald ?" 
 
 " Yes, what have you to say to that ?" 
 
 "That it would be an alliance as honorable as 
 advantageous ; but are you sure that there is a young 
 lady named Fitz-Gerald ? I think I saw once a child at 
 the Fitz-Gerald's, but I thought it was a boy." 
 
 " No, it was a girl." 
 
 " Where can one see her ?" 
 
 " One can see her wherever one sees oneself. She 
 is to* be seen wherever you go ; but this has only been 
 during two years past, since you have been in 
 mourning; so that accounts for your not knowing 
 her." 
 
 " Do you remember," said Madame de Lorris, " my 
 poor little sister-in-law, Madame de Kevern ?" 
 
 " Madame de Kevern ! Certainly — poor young 
 woman, she was charming." 
 
 " Well, Marie Fitz-Gerald is just such a person. I 
 
22 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 think she greatly resembles her in appearance, do not 
 you, mamma?" 
 
 " Yes," answered the marquise, " she is very hand- 
 some. But you shall judge of her with your own 
 eyes, for I am going to do for you a heroic thing. 
 Marie and her mother are now at their country-house 
 near Melun. Poor Kevern, tlie brother of my 
 daughter-in-law, has' a little castle in their neighbor- 
 hood, which he has put at our disposal during' his 
 absence. It is a place that I <do not like, but I will go 
 there with Louise for a few days. ' You shall come 
 and see us, and an introduction will take place natu- 
 rally. Is it a bargain ?" 
 
 " I am overwhelmed by your kindness," said Lionel, 
 " but I wish it to be understood that this step shall 
 not commit me in an absolute manner." • 
 
 " What a man ! Nobody shall marry you in spite 
 of yourself, my dear friend ; therefore be tranquil. 
 Besides, you yourself may not please. That astonishes 
 you; but it is very possible, nevertheless, that you 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 23 
 
 may not please — so nobody is committed. Ring now, 
 my friend — come back to-morrow, and then we will 
 complete our projects." 
 
 M. de Rias renewed his thanks, made his adieus 
 and retired, leaving Madame de la Veyle and her 
 charming daughter-in-law in the enjoyment of that 
 pleasurable excitement which all women, young or 
 old, experience when they are concerned, even indi- 
 rectly, in those adventures wherein love is called upon 
 to take a part. 
 
24 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A TADAME FITZ-GERALD, widow of a coun- 
 sellor of state, had been a great beauty, and 
 might still be called so, although she had reached her 
 forty-fifth year. When, under the first sunbeams of 
 March or April, she emerged from her furs and 
 deigned to descend the boulevard, from the Rue de la 
 Paix to the Madelaine, in company with her daughter, 
 the promefladers, who shrank away from her path 
 with involuntary deference, got a perfect idea of Pari- 
 sian elegance in its supreme purity. Mother and 
 daughter, although little accustomed to long walks, 
 advanced with firm and sure steps, cleaving the 
 crowd with sovereign indifference, and exchanging 
 a few words in haughty and crisp voices, as if they 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 25 
 
 were enjoying a tUe-h-Ute in their own park. Their 
 toilettes, although marvellously adapted to their ages, 
 had a charming similarity ; their gait was harmonious ; 
 they left behind them an odor of hot-house flowers, 
 and seemed to purify the asphalt upon which they 
 trod. Strangers studied with jealous eyes the dress, 
 the movements, the attractions of these two Parisians 
 strolling abroad in their empire, and, with reason, 
 despaired of imitating them. 
 
 Although she had been left a widow early and in all 
 the splendor of her beauty, Madame Fitz-Gerald had 
 doubled the cape of maturity with a reputation per- 
 fectly pure. She was not armed with any very solid 
 or elevated principles, but she had, in the highest 
 degree, the religion at once of ermines and of thor- 
 ough women of the world — a horror of stains. She 
 applied to morality the tastes and repugnance which 
 characterized her physical care of her person. Her 
 instincts and habits revolted at disorder and blem- 
 ishes. Evil, to her, was not simply evil — it was more. 
 
26 ^ MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 it was bad bree^^ding. If it is not desirable to exag- 
 gerate the moral valqe of this sort of feeling, it is at 
 least well not to deny its delicacy and practical value. 
 It is the unique safeguard of many women. It is a 
 charm which resembles virtue. 
 
 An uncle of her husband, Count Patrice Fitz-Gerald, 
 with chivalric courtesy, devoted himself to the ser- 
 vice of the young widow, and made himself her guide 
 and protector in the wojld until the day when her 
 daughter was old enough to be presented in society. 
 From that moment Count .Patrice retired, with plea- 
 sure, to his chateau de Fresnes, and it becapie a habit 
 with his niece to spend therewith him several months 
 of each summer. 
 
 •It was there that Madame Fitz-Gerald received, one 
 fine morning in July, an interesting communication 
 from Madame de la Veyle, of which that lady had 
 already forewarned her by a mysterious missive. The 
 matrimonial overture was received with an enthusiasm 
 hardly hidden by the appearance of reserve which the 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 27 
 
 circumstances demanded. Madame Fitz-Gerald en- 
 deavored to murmur that her daughter was still very 
 young; that she was hardly nineteen years of age; 
 that she was, furthermore, very much sought and in a 
 position to make her choice at leisure — then, finally, 
 forgetting all conventionalities in her maternal im- 
 pulse, she threw her arms about the neck of her old 
 friend and burst into tears. Lionel de Rias was in 
 fact, by his name, his fortune, his merit and his per- 
 sonal appearance, one of those sons-in-law whom 
 mothers delight in evoking in their dreams. 
 
 Count Patrice was naturally called to the council 
 and showed himself quite in sympathy with the pro- 
 ject of alliance. They took several days to talk of it 
 at their ease, and to discuss all the questions of con- 
 ventionality and interest involved. The marquise was 
 installed in a pleasant countrvrhouse, which they 
 called the Pavilion, belonging to the brother of her 
 daughter-in-law, situated only about half a mile from 
 Fresnes ; and, thanks to this convenience of neighbor- 
 
28 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 hood, they could multiply their conferences on this 
 delicate subject without awakening the curiosity of 
 Mademoiselle Marie Fitz-Gerald or interesting her 
 feelitigs. She might not please Lionel, and Lionel 
 might not please her. It was therefore of the utmost 
 importance to spare her from those preniature excite- 
 ments so undesirable for young maidenhood. During 
 the parleying of the elders, Madame de Lorris was 
 detailed to amuse Mademoiselle Marie, and, being too 
 wise and discreet to " tell tales out of school," dis- 
 charged this duty conscientiously. 
 
 At length the day arrived which had been fixed 
 upon for the first interview between the two young 
 people, and all felt a happy confidence that Marie 
 would pass through the ordeal with the most entire 
 liberty of heart and mind. But they did not neglect 
 any precaution which might take away from that 
 interview even a trace of intention or formality and 
 give it an appearance of accident or chance. Not- 
 withstanding the perfect naturalness of M. de Rias' 
 
A MARRIAGE IN EIOE LIFE. 
 
 29 
 
 arrival, among many other comers and goers, at his 
 godmother's house, the following notes — agreed upon 
 before hand — were exchanged between the Pavilion 
 and the Chateau de Fresnes on the morning of this 
 important day : 
 
 Madame de la Veyle to Madame Fitz-Gerald. 
 
 " My dear Clarisse, 
 
 " Do not count upon us to-day for dinner. Some 
 visitors have come by the train. They are very amia- 
 ble people, no doubt, but might have made a better 
 choice of their day, and, above all, notified me. I de- 
 test even the most agreeable surprises. 
 
 " Tender regards, my dear." 
 
 Madame Fitz-Gerald to Madame de la Veyle. 
 
 " Bring me your very amiable people, my dear. 
 Only tell me the number, in order that I may lay 
 plates for them. 
 
 " I embrace you, my friend." 
 
30 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 Madame de la Veyle to Madame Fitz-Gerald. 
 
 " My dear friend, my amiable people are only one. 
 It is my godson, Lionfel de Rias, but I cannot let him 
 din6 alone and I cannot bring him to ytju. He comes 
 to me only for a day and has not brought his evenirfg', 
 
 coat. I 
 
 v;.,i s¥«-. " Affectionate despair." 
 
 Madame Fitz-Gerald to Madame de la Veyle. 
 " Dear Friend : 
 
 " Bring M. de Rias as he is. My uncle will keep 
 on his jacket in order to put him at his ease. Come 
 early, and we will take a walk this evening. 
 
 " Yours for ever." 
 
 Madame de la Veyle to Madame Fitz-Gerald. 
 
 " It is understood then that we will come at three 
 o'clock,— that is, the general, Louise and myself. As 
 to M. de Rias, he has some visits to make in the 
 neighborhood. He will join us toward six o'clock, 
 on one of the general's horses." 
 
A MARRTA 6E IN HIGH LIFE. 31 
 
 Madame Fitz-Gerald took care to communicate to 
 her daughter each successive part of this astute cor- 
 respondence, and could not btit fehcitate herself on 
 the perfect indifference with which Mademoiselle Marie 
 followed the progress of events. 
 
 Nevertheless, toward half-past five o'clock in the 
 afternoon, the young girl was promenading solitarily 
 on the terrace of the park which overlooked the road 
 leading from Melun to Foritainebleau. From time to 
 time she stopped in her light and rapid walk, and 
 seemed to. listen for some far-off noise, looking the 
 while toward the road through the openings in the 
 thick hedge which bordered the terrace. Then she 
 would start again upon her walk, moving with a 
 ^gliding step, as if she were about to waltz. 
 
 When she again hazarded a furtive glance through 
 the verdant arches, she drew quickly back her yielding 
 bust and murmured a few words between her lips, half- 
 parted by a vague smile. There was to be clearly 
 heard, on the dry, hard road, the resonant tread of a 
 
32 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 horse, the proud step of a high-bred charger it seemed, 
 one which should carry only some distinguished rider. 
 The young girl still smiled. She hid herself, and, 
 with a palpitating bosom, managed to make, among 
 the foliage in the thickest part of the hedge, a little 
 observatory. The horseman passed. She regarded 
 him with an interest so intense that she seemed to 
 cease to breathe. M. de Rias had appeared, with his 
 quiet, elegance, his manly grace, his handsome and 
 proud features slightly paled with emotion. 
 
 When he had passed out of sight she sighed deeply. 
 Placing her hand on her agitated heart, she fixed 
 her brilliant blue eyes for an instant on the space 
 which a moment ago he had filled, then lowering 
 her gaze slowly to the ground, she said in a broken 
 voice : 
 
 "My husband!" 
 
 At the sound of this word her face became purple ; 
 she hid it in her hands, and remained thus for some 
 minutes like a statue of startled modesty, after which 
 
A UARRIAOE IN EIGE LIFE. 33 
 
 Mademoiselle Fitz-Gerald, with lively step, returned to 
 the chateau. 
 
 They were waiting for her there, with extreme im- 
 patience, for M. de Rias had already entered the 
 court-yard, to the great despair of the old marquise. 
 
 " Where is Marie ?" she asked of Madame Fitz- 
 Gerald, who was posted at her side in the embrasure 
 of one of the windows of the drawing-room. " Lionel 
 looks very well on horseback ; I had arranged this so 
 that she should first see him in all his glory — for first 
 impression is the great thing; and now, behold him 
 arrive and that little girl is not here. It is a real mis- 
 fortune !" 
 
 " My dear marquise," replied Madame Fitz-Gerald, 
 ''you know that, above everything else, we desired 
 that Marie should not have the slightest suspicion; 
 besides, your godson appears to me to look as well 
 on foot as upon horseback, therefore he has lost noth- 
 ing." 
 
 When Mademoiselle Marie condescended to appear 
 3 
 
34 
 
 A ItARRIAGE IN HIGB LIFE. 
 
 in the drawing-room with the family, a few minutes 
 before dinner, she found M. de Rias already there, 
 acclimated, as it were, and in possession, manifestly, 
 of the good graces of Madame Fitz-Gerald and the 
 Count Patrice. He was immediately introduced to 
 her, and she responded to the profound salutation of 
 the ypung gentleman with an inclination of the head 
 so slight and indifferent as almost to amount to rude- 
 ness. ' Lionel — a little . astonished, because he was 
 generally better treated by the ladies at first sight on 
 account of his good looks^began to wonder and 
 endeavor to divine the reason for this cold reception. 
 After a little cogitation he thought he had hit upon it. 
 Madame de la Veyle had shown him her diplomatic 
 correspondence of the morning, with Madame Fitz- 
 Gerald, and, while he approved of the general spirit 
 of it, he deemed ill advised the detail about his coat. 
 He thought that Maaemoiselle Fitz-Gerald, a thorough 
 expert in social decorum, had been shocked, and 
 that a man who would visit about in castles 
 
A MABBIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. 35 
 
 without a dress-coat seemed to her to justify and 
 even to invite ridicule. 
 
 This chimera was, as we know, the utter puerility 
 of a lover. Was Lionel then that already ? In reality 
 he had been so even before seeing Mademoiselle Fitz- 
 Gerald ; for, if the unknown possibilities of marriage 
 awaken in men of the age of M. de Rias some secret 
 fears, it is not the less true that in that horizon there 
 is for them a luminous point, a perspective of novelty 
 and certainty that attracts and charms them power- 
 fully. It is the emotion of a sort of love, and, if one 
 may so speak of it, a voluptuousness, that, however rich 
 their past lives may have been in kindred sensations, 
 ''has hitherto been unknown to ihem. It ij the mi- 
 rage of a fount of purity whose dew is to refresh and 
 rejuvenate their weary hearts and senses. It is the 
 ideal image of that young creature, immaculate as 
 Pygmalion's marble, whose virgin breast reserves for 
 them its first blushes. 
 
 Much occupied for some time past with this beauti- 
 
36 A MABRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 ful vision, M. de Rias had hardly yet become enamored 
 of Mademoiselle Fitz-Gerald, who seemed to him its 
 incarnation. Truly she was very pretty and very 
 graceful, supple and. willowy, with the air of a wild 
 nymph, magnificently blue-eyed and lofty-browed. 
 Lionel found, however, that this marble did not be- 
 come animated at his contact, as he had dreamed. 
 The countenance of Mademoiselle Marie, during din- 
 ner, completed his mortification. If he had been the 
 parish priest she could not have seemed more indif- 
 ferent to his presence. She appeared quiet and pre- 
 occupied, made pleasant little remarks from time to 
 time to her cousin de Lorris, in a tone of passable en- 
 joyment, and replied to the questions of Lionel with 
 polite indifierence. 
 
 This behavior finished by alarming the old mar- 
 quise herself, versed as she was in all the arts of 
 her sex. When they left the table she took her 
 daughter-in-law aside. 
 
 " My darling," she said to her, " it is all on one side. 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGE LIFE. 37 
 
 Lionel is evidently under the charm, but the child 
 disquiets me. Try to find out what she thinks of 
 him — without appearing to do so ; you understand !" 
 
 A moment after, the young cousins were running 
 about like two boarding-school girls, across the 
 parterres which ornamented the court-yard before the 
 facade of the chateau. 
 
 Suddenly, Madame de Lorris, out of breath, ap- 
 proaching one of the open windows of the drawing- 
 room, made a sign to her mother-in-law. 
 
 "Mamma," she said to her, "re-assure yourself; 
 she has said nothing to me, but I am sure that she 
 has divined all, and that she is pleased with it, for she 
 kisses me every instant." 
 
 The train to Paris passed at nine o'clock, and 
 Lionel, in order to bear out his part of the pro- 
 gramme, had to go back to the Pavilion, which was 
 only a few steps from the depot. His horse was 
 led into the court-yard. It was a thorough-bred 
 Arab, displaying its grace by coquettish prancings 
 
38 ^ MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 and curvetings, while its long silky tail swept the 
 sand. 
 
 Mademoiselle Marie seemed to know the horse, for 
 she called him by his name^ "Sahib," petted him and t 
 fed him with tufts of grass. She finished by giving 
 him a large rose, which she laughingly plucked from 
 
 the waist of Madame de Lorris. These attentions, 
 
 'J' 
 very much to the taste of the hors^, were still more so 
 
 to that of his rider. '-* 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 39 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A FEW weeks later a strange personage arrived at 
 the Chateau de Fresnes. It was the Countess 
 Jules de Bruce, sister of the Count Patrice. She 
 lived in the environs of Cherbourg, near the sea, in 
 an old mansion — a sort of savage place. — where she 
 occupied herself with agriculture and good works. 
 She never left there, except under the most extraordi- 
 nary family circumstances. Her arrival, she said, 
 was equivalent to a sacrament, for she was a sure! 
 sign of marriage, baptism or death. 
 
 The Countess Jules, in spite of that juvenile appel- 
 lation, which she had preserved through all her ages, 
 was a septuagenarian. This venerable lady had an 
 easy and dignified bearing, a blending of monastic 
 
40 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 simplicity with extreme good breeding. She had 
 .been a widow for quite fifty years. It was impossible 
 even to imagine what sort of a man, in his time, the 
 Count Jules de Bruce had been. She never spoke of 
 him. When any one expressed astonishment that she 
 had persisted in such a long widowhood : 
 
 " I was married five months," she would reply, " and 
 that was sufficiently long to show me the nothingness 
 of that kind of amusement.' 
 
 And that was all anybody knew about the count. 
 
 She arrived early in the morning of the day before 
 that fixed for the marriage of her grand-niece with 
 Lionel de Rias. Lionel-^who for some time had been 
 domiciled at the Pavilion, with his godmother, in 
 order to pay his court with more assiduity — on that 
 day also came to the chateau at a very early hour. 
 He was then immediately presented to the Countess 
 Juleps, who, having looked him over with a formidable 
 fixity of stare, said to him in a brusque voice : 
 
 " Sir, I am your .servant ; — ^you are very good- 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 41 
 
 looking. You please me very much ! — so I find it 
 very good — tra-la-le ! I find it very good — tra-la-la !" 
 
 After which she turned her back upon him, buried 
 herself in a great arm-chair, unrolled an immense 
 piece of knitting, and went resolutely to work. 
 
 Nevertheless, Madame Fitz-Gerald was a prey to 
 the most cruel perplexities, which she confidentially 
 put before the Countess Jules. 
 
 " My dear aunt," she said, " you are very good to 
 come so early. Your presence extricates me from a 
 great embarrassment. We expect at least twenty 
 relatives and friends this afternoon. I have a number 
 of preparations to make and orders to give, and, 
 above all, I have my two amorous young people 
 to watch. It is enough to drive me wild. Thank 
 Heaven ! you are here to relieve guard. I haye the 
 most absolute confidence in the delicacy of M. de Rias, 
 but there are certain appearances which one must keep 
 up. After the wedding they may take care of them- 
 selves, but until then it appears to me highly improper 
 
42 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 that my daughter and my future son-in-law should re- 
 main alone one instant. I have managed them unti 
 now, Kut for to-day I confide them to you. Do nol 
 lose sight of them for a single moment when I am 
 forced to be absent. You will promise me this, will 
 you not, good aunt?" 
 
 During this invocation a caustic smile flitted ovei 
 the faded features of the Countess Jules, yet she 
 signified by a very emphatic nod her acceptance of 
 the mission with which she was thus invested. The 
 opportunity to do honor to her engagement was not 
 slow to offer itself After breakfast, Madame Fitz- 
 Gerald followed her uncle, in order to share with him 
 vlhe hospitable cares necessitated by the occasion, but 
 she did not leave the drawing-room without address- 
 ing an eloquent look, expressive and supplicatory, to 
 her old aunt. 
 
 The Countess Jules installed herself in the em- 
 brasure of a window. She had taken up her knitting 
 work again, but, while working incessantly, kept a sharp 
 
A MABRTAGH IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 43 
 
 lookout upon Mademoiselle Marie — who was pick- 
 ing out upon the piano tfie notes of a new piece of 
 music — and upon M. de Rias, who with a very 
 melancholy air, was turning the pages for her. A 
 rapid dialogue in an undertone took place between 
 the two young people. 
 
 "Monsieur," said Mademoiselle Fitz-Gerald, with- 
 out interrupting her playing, throwing her words 
 over her shoulder at him. 
 
 " Mademoiselle ?" 
 
 " What is the matter with you ? You look like a 
 martyr." 
 
 " That is because I am one." 
 
 " How so ?" 
 
 " You see how it is." 
 
 " How what is ?" 
 
 " That we are now under the surveillance 
 of a dragon. Your mother is truly incomprehen- 
 sible." 
 
 "You know how much she thinks of appearances. 
 
44 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 Do you not yourself have a regard for appearances, 
 sir?" 
 
 " Yes, certainly — ^particularly when they suit me ; 
 but frankly, your mother " 
 
 " Come, come, don't say anything against my 
 mother." 
 
 " I adore her — but, frankly, I say again, she might 
 have contented herself with keeping us in sight for 
 two long months, and let us breathe a little on the 
 last day ; but no — she delivers us over to that Cerbe- 
 rus." 
 
 " Why ! Do you not find my aunt agreeable ?" 
 
 " Not at all — she is very far from being agreeable." 
 
 " Take care'. 'She is not deaf." 
 
 " I ragret it." 
 
 " Why ?" 
 
 " Because — naturally — I have a thousand things to 
 say to you." 
 
 " Say them ! I will put down the pedal." 
 
 M, de Rias bent towards the ear of his betrothed, in 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH HFE. 45 
 
 order to pour into it one of those thousand things 
 that he had to say to her, but in that instant a fixed 
 stare from the Countess Jules, stony and aiistere, 
 suddenly paralyzed him. At the same time the old 
 lady ceased knitting, stuck her needle in her cap and 
 thus spoke. 
 
 " My children, approach ! I have heard it said by 
 knowing people, and my short personal experience 
 has confirmed me in believing it true, that in the 
 happiest marriage the day which was the best of it all 
 was the day before the wedding. I think it perfectly 
 absurd that they will not leave you to enjoy it fully 
 and freely. That is why I abuse the plenipotentiary 
 powers which your mother has delegated to me, by 
 giving you the key of the garden. It is lovely 
 weather. Go, my children, and take a walk !" 
 Mademoiselle Marie turned very red. 
 
 " But, aunt " she murmured feebly. 
 
 The old lady, without replying, took her by the 
 hand and pushed her gently forth from the window 
 
46 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 of the drawing-room at which she was seated, which 
 window opened upon the park. Lionel followed her 
 as soon as he had, in passing, kissed the hand of this 
 blunt but good fairy. ' 
 
 Once in the open air, the two young people, like 
 two long-imprisoned birds suddenly set free, seemed 
 fiot a little astonished at their new-found liberty. 
 
 They looked at each other and laughed, quite em- 
 barrassed with their good fortune. Then, at last, 
 Mademoiselle Fitz-Gerald took Lionel's arm, which 
 he offered her. 
 
 As they directed their slow steps toward the nearest 
 foot-path leading to the park, a window was opened 
 above them, in the upper story of the chateau. 
 
 " Your mother !" cried Lionel, gayly. " We are lost !" 
 
 Overcoming the feeble resistance of the young girl, 
 he forced her to run with him beneath the leafy shelter 
 of a by-path at the edge of the park. 
 
 They soon reached the first cross-roads in the forest, 
 where they stopped for a moment to take breath 
 
A MARRIAQE IN HIQB LIFE. 47 
 
 Mademoiselle Fitz-Gerald, lending herself with good 
 grace to an adventure which promised such frolicsome 
 freedom, leaned upon the arm of ^ionel, and interro^ 
 gated him, in a panting voice and with a pretty little 
 startled look : « 
 
 " Do you really think, monsieur, that they saw us ?" 
 
 " Without doubt, they saw us 1" 
 
 " My mother ?" 
 
 " It seemed to me that I recognised her." 
 
 " And what do you think she is going to do ?" 
 
 " She will send the police after us." 
 
 They began laughing, like two young lovers as they 
 were, when suddenly : 
 
 " Listen !" said the young girl, " I hear some one 
 coming." 
 
 M. de Rias listened. 
 
 "Yes, some one is coming; — we are followed. 
 Well, mademoiselle, what shall we do ? Shall we give 
 ourselves up?" 
 
 " Already ?" said she. 
 
48 ^ MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 At that moment, a noise of footsteps, nearer and 
 nearer, made them start Uke two kids, and they rushed 
 in haste down a by-path, which wound through the 
 neighboring shrubbery and underwood. They walked 
 rapidly Jor some time, the young man going in front 
 to push away the branches which almost filled the 
 little path, and turning at intervals to smile at his 
 laughing betrothed. • Suddenly he stopped and very 
 carefully advanced his head among the foliage. They 
 were at the verge of one of the great avenues of the 
 park, where the path ended. 
 
 "What is it, monsieur?" timidly asked Mademoi- 
 selle Fitz-Gerald. "What ,do you see?" 
 
 " Hush ! I see your uncle. They have probably 
 sent him to keep us company. He will pass us soon 
 — he is looking right and left. Quick! hide yourself!" 
 
 They were near a group of two or three old oaks, 
 covered with lichens and moss, whose trunks were 
 almost united. Lionel hid behind the trees, while the 
 young girl knelt on the moss which carpeted the roots. 
 
A MARHIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 49 
 
 They remained thus a few minutes in silence ; he 
 standing up, with his finger on his lips, looking at 
 her ; she at his feet, like a child, upturning to him her 
 sweet face radiant with pleasure, tenderness and 
 innocence. 
 
 The Count Patrice, nevertheless, despatched by 
 Madame Fitz-Gerald, with an injunction to put an end 
 to this improper tiie-a-tite, looked vaguely around — 
 like a man who realized the importance of the duty 
 which he had undertaken. He stopped a last time, 
 and listened; then, accepting the situation, made a 
 movement of the head and a gesture of the hand ex- 
 pressive of his formal announcement of an abandon- 
 ment of the pursuit. A moment later he disap- 
 peared. 
 
 Lionel, as soon as he was assured of this happy cir- 
 cumstance, hastened to inform Mademoiselle Marie, 
 upon which she rejoined him in the avenue. 
 
 "And now, monsieur," said she to him, " what are 
 
 we going to do ?" 
 4 
 
so 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 " We are going to continue our walk, alone, under 
 the blue sky. Is not that charming ?" 
 
 " Ah ! yes ! It is charming," she replied. " I 
 would like to show you the places that I love. Fol- 
 low me, monsieur, and have confidence." 
 
 " I do not know that I ought to have confidence," 
 said Lionel. " I feel sure that you will get me lost." 
 
 " No, no ! do not be afi-aid !" 
 
 He followed again the beautiful young girl, who 
 once more led the way, graceful as a fawn and supple 
 as an adder. She wore little slippers, with high heels 
 and silver buckles, which seemed ill adapted for an 
 excursion in the forest, but in which she nevertheless 
 glided along with a marvellous charm of motion. 
 Lionel viewed with extraordinary interest the rise and 
 fall of those little slippers, showing at each step a 
 tread full of elastic firmness, displacing obstacles, 
 springing over roots, disentangling themselves from 
 loose brushwood, and occasionally becoming lost in 
 the dry leaves, only to reappear again triumphant. 
 
A MAREIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 SI 
 
 They came to the margin of a brook which they 
 had to cross upon a dyke of large stones, which a 
 humid moss made very slippery. Mademoiselle Fitz- 
 Gerald passed over like a bird. Lionel was not so 
 fortunate. His foot slipped when he was but half-way 
 over and he could not avoid a slight immersion. His 
 disaster would have been complete, had not Made- 
 moiselle Fitz-Gerald quickly held out her hand to 
 him from the bank, while she made the woods echo 
 with her bursts of laughter. 
 
 Then she led him gayly from bower to bower, over 
 hills and dales, halting from time to time at her 
 favorite sites, stopping before the bright and sombre 
 scenes which alike stirred her young imagination and 
 which she had christened with symbolic names. 
 There was The Ball-room — a little clearing, oddly 
 hung around with a fringe of trailing creepers, like 
 chandeliers ; then The Hermits Chapel, not far from 
 The Fairies' Ring. Of the sombre class she called 
 upon him to admire The Felon's Pool, a little piece of 
 
52 -A- MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 muddy, slimy water^ which seemed to hide some sinis- 
 ter mystery beneath its stagnant surface ; and The 
 Secret Pond, so called because it was suspected of 
 dark complicity with The Felon's Pool. 
 
 These little episodes served as texts for pleasant rcr 
 flections and foolish polemics; in brief, of all those 
 childish nothings, little worthy to be recprded by his- 
 tory, but in which the betrothed two took an extreme 
 pleasure — for when love sits at the piano, it matters 
 little what air is sung to the delicious melody of that 
 accompanist. 
 
 Nevertheless, Mademoiselle Marie, having con- 
 sulted her watch, uttered an exclamation of affright 
 when she saw that nearly two hours had rolled by 
 since they set out. 
 
 "Monsieur, we must go back !" she said. 
 
 " What a pity !" replied Lionel. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 But, in spite of the sigh which accompanied her 
 response, she chose the most direct route to the 
 
A MARBIA GE IN EIOH LIFE. 5 3 
 
 chateau. As they approached it they became more 
 silent. Their conversation, when attempted at all, no 
 longer had the same character of lightness and joy- 
 ousness. They were going along a terrace bordered 
 by witch-hazels, above the highway. 
 
 " Ah ! how anxiotis and troubled I was, the first 
 time I passed this terrace !" said Lionel. 
 
 "Yes! Why?" 
 
 " Because I was afraid I would not please you ! — and 
 I was right, for indeed I did not." 
 
 " How so ? It seems to me that " she finished 
 
 her sentence by a look arid a smile. 
 
 "Oh, yes; you have become resigned since. But 
 admit now that the first time we met I displeased you 
 greatly ?" 
 
 " Why ? What made you think so ?" 
 
 " Your reception. It was something horrible. You 
 affected not even to see me." 
 
 " Oh ! that was because I had already seen you." 
 
 "Where? How?" 
 
54 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 "There," she said, showing him the hedge. 
 
 "What!" he exclaimed, "so young and yet so art- 
 ful!" pressing affectionately the arm which leaned 
 upon his own. 
 
 After a pause : 
 
 "Do you believe," she said, "that what my aunt 
 said was true — that the day before the wedding is the 
 happiest in marriage ?" 
 
 " I am tempted to believe it at this moment," an- 
 swered Lionel ; " for I cannot imagine an hour sweeter 
 than this." 
 
 " Nor can I ; but may we not always be as happy 
 as we are now ?" 
 
 He stopped, took her two hands in his, and with 
 his eyes gazing into hers, said in a very tender voice : 
 
 " If it will render you happy to be loved, Marie, we 
 shall be very happy, for I will love you very dearly. 
 Yes, I do love you very much !" he added, still 
 more tenderly, drawing her toward him as he 
 spoke. 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 55 
 
 She lowered her eyes ; her face assumed a strangely- 
 serious expression, and in silence she bent toward him 
 her forehead, pure and pale, upon which the young 
 man reverently, yet lovingly, pressed his lips. 
 
56 • A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TF you imagine that Madame Fitz-Gerald received 
 the two fugitives with anger and reproaches, it 
 shows conclusively that you were not acquainted with 
 her. Doubtless she was pained by an escapade which 
 shocked her ideas of propriety and good behavior, 
 but it would have been in the extreme, of bad taste for 
 her to exaggerate the gravity of the offence. She 
 contented herself with smiling a little and shrugging 
 her shoulders at sight of the guilty ones. 
 
 " My children, you are ridiculous !" she said to 
 them ; " you behave like a pair of rustic lovers." 
 
 " Mamma," said Mademoiselle Marie, throwing her 
 arms about her mother's neck, " we only obeyed my 
 aunt." 
 
A MABBIAOE IN EIOH LIFE. 
 
 57 
 
 " But your aunt, my dear, is a savage, and you 
 ought to know it. She has never lived in the world. 
 She is a wild'woman^-from the forest. That is all." 
 
 In the afternoon and evening the chateau was the 
 theatre of great animation. The different trains from 
 Paris successively brought crowds of relations, friends, 
 guests and bridemaids, with their baggage. The 
 continual rolling of carriages in the court-yard ; the 
 welcoming of new-comers ; the laughter of young 
 girls : the voices of servants ; the noisy moving of 
 trunks up the staircases ; all commingled in a con- 
 fused and indescribable tumult. Madame Fitz-Gerald 
 and her daughter, aided by Count Patrice, exerted 
 themselves to receive their guests, guide them through 
 the labyrinths of the corridors, and house them in 
 their respective apartments. Lionel, on his part, lent 
 with a graceful courtesy what assistance he could, 
 although in the bottom of his soul this portion of the 
 fgte seemed to him very uninteresting. Only one per- 
 son held aloof from all the excitement. It was the 
 
58 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 Countess Jules, who all the time remained seated near 
 a window, knitting with impassible serenity. 
 
 To this violent hurly-burly succeeded softer sounds 
 of trailing robes in the lobbies and avalanches of silks 
 on the staircases. A royal dinner .ynited all the guests 
 in a vast gallery, in the midst of an odorous frame- 
 work of foliage and flowers ; after which they passed 
 froni the gallery into the drawing-room, in that fine 
 expansive humor and mutual sympathy which are, in 
 all social conditions and in all latitudes, the ordinary 
 consequences of a comfortable repast. ^ 
 
 While they took coffee, Mademoiselle Fitz-Gerald 
 thought it her duty to introduce particularly to her 
 betrothed two young women — the Duchess d'Es- 
 tr^ny and Madame de Chelles, who were, like Madame 
 de Lorris, her cousins and friends from infancy. 
 
 Madame de Chelles, laughing, petulant, with man- 
 ners somewhat boisterous, had still at certain mo- 
 ments, in her dark eyes, an odd expression of reverie 
 and pensiveness. 
 
A MARBIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. 59 
 
 " My dear," she said, abruptly, to Mademoiselle 
 Fitz-Gerald, " the first time that you go to the Bouffes- 
 Parisiens or the Palais-Royal, you must take me with 
 you. I wish to enjoy your first impressions. It is 
 very amusing — as you will see. I married principally 
 to go to the minor theatres; but I have commenced 
 to tire of it — because my husband gives me too much 
 of them." 
 
 " You complain, my darling," broke in M. de Chelles 
 upon the conversation, caressing his light moustache 
 while he spoke, " but I, let me tell you, have a system." 
 He spoke in a sententious manner, for he was one of 
 those to whom wine lends gravity. " I share all my 
 pleasures with my wife. I am not selfish. I have my 
 tastes — but I associate my wife with them. For in- 
 stance, I hke the minor theatres, where they get off 
 good things ; well, I take my wife with. me. I like to 
 drive — I take my wife with me. I go to an opera- 
 ball — I take my wife with me. I go to sup with my 
 friends after the ball — my wife sups with us. A wo- 
 
7 
 
 6o A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 man should be the comrade of her husband. That is 
 my system." 
 
 " Oh ! you are a dunce with your system !" ex- 
 claimed Madame de Chelles ; " go on, my friend, and 
 you will lose me — I'm weary of you already !" And, 
 bursting into a laugh, she turned on her heel. 
 
 The Duchess d'Estr^ny was a blonde, slight, ele- 
 gant, with eyes full of languor and even sadness. She 
 was thus sad because the duke, her husband, liked her 
 well enough, but did not passionately love her. When 
 M. de Rias was introduced to her by her cousin, she 
 studied him with an air of doleful interest; then ten- 
 derly embracing Mademoiselle Fitz- Gerald : 
 
 " You love her very much, sir, do you not ?" she 
 said, with an impressive accent. 
 
 " Yes," cried at that moment a sonorous and jovial 
 voice behind them, " but love her passionately. That's 
 it. See, my dear Lionel," continued the Duke d'Es- 
 tr^ny, who was a fine-looking man, of powerful build, 
 " love women with all your heart, or do not meddle 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 6l 
 
 with them. Now I have thrown this poor duchess 
 into despair, because I do not love her sufficiently to 
 write verses to her. It is a misfortune, I know; but 
 I do not know how to make verses — so' what can 
 I do about it ? I was made that way. L — do — not — 
 ivrite — verses !" 
 
 He pronounced his words with an emphasis, as if 
 he meant it to be understood, that while repudiating 
 verses he was a prose-writer of the highest order. 
 
 During this tirade, the dutchess took off her gloves 
 and adjusted her rings, with a look of cold inatten- 
 tion. When the duke finished his good-natured 
 declaration, she simply turned to Mademoiselle Fitz- 
 Gerald and said : 
 
 " Are you coming ?" 
 
 They went together to the piano. The duchess 
 first, in a fusillade of chromatic fireworks, solaced her 
 indignant soul. Then a waltz, by four hands, burst 
 noisily through the drawing-room and set palpitating 
 the corsages of the bridesnaaids. 
 
62 A. MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 A little later in the evening, Lionel came and 
 seated himself besides Madame de la Veyle, who 
 looked with pleasure on this family f6te. 
 
 " My dear godmother," he asked her, seriously, " is 
 there still time to break off?" 
 
 " What ! To break off!" she exclaimed, bounding 
 up from her seat. " Are you crazy ?" 
 
 " I am, certainly, about Mademoiselle Fitz-Ger- 
 ald." 
 
 " And then what ?" 
 
 At that same moment. Mademoiselle Marie, who 
 was waltzing, stopped before them, and bending over 
 said quickly, with a smile on her lips : 
 
 " What is he saying to you, madame ?" 
 
 " Oh ! He ' is telling me that he is crazy about 
 you." 
 
 "Ah! what a pleasant madness!" exclaimed the 
 young girl, gayly, springing again into the midst of 
 the whirlpool of dancers. 
 
 " Never," confided Lionel, " have I appreciated her 
 
A MARRIAGE m HIGH LIFE. 63 
 
 as to-day ; she is simple, true, tender, honest — she is 
 a charming creature, an exquisite being !" 
 
 Mademoiselle Fitz-Gerald understood that they 
 were still speaking of her, and stopped a second time 
 in the same place. 
 
 " What is he saying to you now, madame ?" she 
 asked in an undertone. 
 
 " He is saying that you are an exquisite being." 
 
 " Then he has indeed gone mad," said she, and, 
 radiant with happiness, she again consigned herself to 
 the arms of her partner, who did not seem much 
 amused by this by-play. 
 
 " But, this evening," continued M. de Rias, " I am 
 tormented by the most sinister ideas." 
 
 " What ideas, my poor friend ?" 
 
 " I have remarked one frightful thing. We have 
 among our guests seven or eight married couples, who 
 have not been chosen, but are taken at hazard from 
 the world. Well, there is not a single pair which is 
 not in a flagrant condition of misunderstanding or 
 
64 ^ MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 disunion. Cast your eyes about you, and I defy you 
 tp deny it." 
 
 The old lady glanced about the drawing-room, and, 
 pursing up her lips, replied : 
 
 " It is certainly true that we have not here the best 
 specimens of exemplary households." 
 
 " Well," continued Lionel, " I say to myself, bitterly, 
 that all these people, or at least the greatest number 
 of them, have loved as we love^Mademoiselle Fitz- 
 Gerald and myself; that they have all had a day 
 before marriage, full of charm and hope — like ours ; 
 and I conclude from all this that there must be in 
 our state of civilization — particularly, perhaps, in our 
 wordly manners — some general causes which alter 
 marriage in its source, and there deposit a fatal germ, 
 which strikes with sterility the most generous and 
 sincere dispositions, and almost invariably makes of 
 an institution of love and peace one of hate and war. 
 You must admit that these are terrible thoughts for a 
 man who is going to be married to-morrow." 
 
A MARRIAQE IN HIGH LIFE. 65 
 
 " Good gracious ! do not start upon such a wild- 
 goose chase !" answered the marquise. " There are 
 no general causes ; there is no fatal germ ; there is 
 nothing of the kind. As I have already had the 
 honor to say to you, there are bad husbands, and that 
 is all." 
 
 " But I do not at all admit your theory," cried 
 Lionel. " It is in all respects a great deal too abso- 
 lute." 
 
 " Pardon me, my friend. If you will permit me, let 
 us examine a little these husbands here, I beg of you. 
 There is, in the first place, the Duke d'Estr^ny. He 
 is a very good man, no doubt, and not a bad husband 
 possibly, but he is a ridiculous blunderer. His wife is 
 a little, delicate, sentimental woman — while he is a 
 blacksmith! yes, positively a blacksmith! In ad- 
 dition to which, he is continually joking her about 
 her innocent mania for romance. Well, he wounds 
 her ^ he exasperates her. In time she will find 
 some one who will comprehend her — that is cer- 
 
66 A MARRIAGE IN SIGH LIFE. 
 
 tain ; and whose fault will it be ? Next, we have 
 little de Chelles 
 
 " Oh ! de Chelles !" said Lionel. " I do not defend 
 him. He wants to make his wife lead a bachelor's 
 life. He is a fool!" 
 
 " Good !" assented the marquise. " Thefe, we have 
 already two. As for the others, it is still worse. Ybu 
 are not ignorant that Monsieur d'Eblis commenced by 
 causing his wife to be patronized in public by his 
 mistress. That was a pretty beginning. And there 
 is one whose sordid avarice has pushed his wife to all 
 sorts of expedients — borrowing, and all that follows 
 it. If you do not know about that already," I tell you 
 of it now. Charny, on the contrary, is not a tniser; 
 he has just given to Mademoiselle I-don't-know-who, 
 of the Varieties, an equipage worth fifty-five thousand 
 francs, and his wife, modestly drawn by a pair of 
 horses costing three thousand francs, meets her every 
 day in that equipage; and knows from whom she 
 received it — be sure of that. M. de Lastere is a serious 
 
A marriagH-in high life. 67 
 
 man — too serious — aspires to be a minister of state. 
 He occupies himself constantl)^ with political economy. 
 His wife understands nothing of that ; so he despises 
 her and neglects her; but he pities her. He sends 
 her all the young men that he meets on the boulevard, 
 saying to them : ' Go and see my wife !' ' Go and keep 
 my yife company!' 'Go and have some music with 
 my wife 1' That poor Laumel there has quiet tastes 
 — he is modest-^he is timid — he distrusts even him- 
 self. He is afraid of actresses, afraid of women of the 
 world, and, above all, afraid of his wife; but he is not 
 afraid of chambermaids, and they are his consolation. 
 Now, my friend, it seems to me that is all — and is 
 not all that reassuring for you ?" 
 
 " I beg your pardon. Not in the least in the world 
 so," said Lionel, laughing, in spite of himself, at this 
 pitiless enumeration. " In the first place, I find it very 
 difficult to believe- that the wives of all these gentle- 
 men are entirely victims, perfectly innocent of wrong 
 toward their husbands. Furthermore, even in com- 
 
68 -4 MARRIAGE' IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 placently lending my assent to your system, I ask 
 myself what man can flatter himself with a certainty 
 of not being in some one of your categories ; for, in 
 short, if one is not perverse and a fool, one may be a 
 blunderer, and how many ways are there in which a 
 man may be a blunderer ?" 
 
 "There are about one hundred thousand, my friend," 
 said the marquise ; " and there is one in particular, 
 which consists in talking philosophy, and searching 
 for the quintessence of things with his old godmother, 
 instead of waltzing with his young wife, while she is 
 dying of envy." 
 
 Upon this sage observation, M. de Rias hastened to 
 his duty — which had not yet ceased to be a pleasure 
 ^and soon forgot, when looking into the blue eyes of 
 his betrothed, the dismal reflections which a moment 
 before had possessed him. 
 
 The next day, which was that of the wedding, ap- 
 peared quite insupportable to Lionel. He had, some 
 time before, timidly suggested to Madame Fitz-Gerald 
 
A MARBIA6E IN HIGH LIFE. 6g 
 
 the idea of having the civil and religious ceremonies 
 performed at six o'clock in the morning, or at mid- 
 night, in the strict seclusion of the family circle. 
 Madame Fitz-Gerald, however, repulsed this proposi- 
 tion as a savage eccentricity, which would have lent to 
 the marriage of her daughter a clandestine character. 
 The marriage took place at mid-day, to the sound of 
 the village bells, and in the midst of the public fes- 
 tivity, he had to submit to the curiosity of the 
 crowd, the multi-colored cockades of the horses, the 
 new liveries of the coachmen, the coarse joy of the 
 servants — in brief, all the inevitable associations, de- 
 monstrative and vulgar, of a wedding. 
 
 During the religious ceremony, which was the only 
 thing that pleased and touched ^im, M. de Rias was 
 not slow to remark one fact which gave some appear- 
 ance of reason to his godmother's theory. Among 
 the wedding-guests the men were, for the most part, 
 in careless attitudes, indifferent or slightly ironical ; 
 while the women were, on the contrary, very serious, 
 
7° 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 showing a sort of passionate fervor, or, as they bent 
 over their chairs, an absorption in mysterious medita- 
 tions. Some wept, all seemed to remember with 
 agony that there has been in their lives such an hour, 
 filled with purity, confidence, hope and sweet vows 
 that they would have liked to have kept. 
 
 It had been at first intended to terminate the 
 wedding-feast by the immediate departure of the 
 young couple for Scotland or Italy; but Madame 
 Fitz-Gerald had supplicated her son-in-law to leave 
 her her daughter for a little while yet, and M. de Rias, 
 too essentially a Parisian to like travel, willingly gave 
 consent to her solicitations. 
 
 It must be owned that he repented of so doing, 
 however, when, the day after marriage, he had to de- 
 scend to the drawing-room at the breakfast hour and 
 display himself before a dozen relatives and friends 
 who had remained at the chateau. In this unwonted 
 conjuncture even the most self-possessed men are in 
 reality very much embarrassed by their countenances ; 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 n 
 
 in such a situation the smile is awkward ; the laugh 
 out of place ; freedom and expansiveness, the manner 
 of a ninny ; languor and prostration, ridiculous ; the 
 air of triumph, gross. A natural air would be best, 
 but that is impossible. 
 
 Madame de Rias, on her side, appeared with that 
 self-possession which distinguishes young wives of a 
 day. She served tea as usual, smiling placidly, with 
 a pure forehead and a limpid eye. 
 
 During this morning the Countess Jules quitted 
 the chateau. After getting into her carriage she 
 called her grandniece to her, embraced her for the 
 last time, and left her, as a farewell, this iine maxim : 
 
 " Remember always, poor child, that woman is made 
 to suffer — and man to be suffered." 
 
72 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A FTER two or three weeks passed at Fresnes, in 
 the enchantment of their mutual love, M. and 
 Madame de Rias settled in Paris towards the com- 
 mencement of October, in a small house in the rue 
 Vauneaw that belonged to Lionel. 
 
 Madame Fitz-Gerald came back at the same time to 
 occupy her apartments in the rue Chauss^e-de-Antin. 
 
 It was a little far from her daughter, but she was 
 accustomed to that quarter — and it was a quiet 
 quarter, she fearlessly declared. 
 
 The truth was, that the faubourg Saint-Germaine, 
 by its comparative solitude, reminded her of the 
 country, which she held in horror. 
 
 It was on one of the first days of February, the 
 
A MARRIAGE IN EIOH LIFE. 73 
 
 following winter, and the honeymoon had not yet 
 ceased to shine with its sweet light in the sky of the 
 young couple, that Madame de Rias summoned her 
 mother to her by a furtive note. 
 
 Madame Fitz-Gerald went with all speed to the rue 
 Vauneaw; after a mysterious conference with her 
 daughter, she sought M. de Rias, who was writing in 
 the library ; her eyes were moist, but her face was 
 radiant. 
 
 " My friend," she said to him, in a tone full of feel- 
 ing, " Marie is not very well this morning — but it is 
 nothing serious — nothing serious, I assure you. With 
 a modesty very natural in a young woman, she did 
 not like to tell you herself And now go and em- 
 brace her !" 
 
 " What ! Truly, dear madame ?" asked Lionel. 
 "Yes indeed; go and kiss her! That will make 
 
 her feel better." 
 
 « But Is she worrying about anything ?" 
 
 " Not at all. What should she worry about ? She 
 
74 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 has the finest health in the world ; nevertheless, it is a 
 circumstance which always astonishes young wives a 
 little ; • so go and embrace her." 
 
 Lionel hurried away to perform this agreeable duty, 
 while Madame Fitz-Gerald slowly paced the library, 
 Softly fanning herself with her handkerchief and per- 
 fuming the air with exquisite odors. 
 
 A few minutes later, three perfectly happy people 
 were seated at the breakfast-table.- Madame Fitz- 
 Gerald, proud of her daughter, contemplated her with ' 
 an air of tender triumph. Madame de Rias, secretly 
 proud of herself, displayed a blending of gayety and 
 confusion quite charming. Lionel admired his wife, 
 who appeared to him extremely touching under this 
 new aspect of a young mother in flower. 
 
 The interesting event which had just been officially 
 communicated to M. de Rias, caused him more than 
 one sort of satisfaction. 
 
 Not only did it flatter his legitimate pride of family, 
 but at the same time it awakened in his heart gener- 
 
A MASRIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 75 
 
 ous feelings ; it also seemed as if it would put an end 
 to that first period of marriage which Lionel had 
 accepted with good grace, but of which he ardently 
 desired the close. This period had naturally been 
 consecrated to the amusement of his young wife, and 
 in particular to those mundane pleasures which had 
 for her the attraction of forbidden fruit. 
 
 He had taken her to the minor theatres with her 
 cousin de Chelles ; he had allowed her to taste till 
 dawn the intoxication of the dance. He had permitted 
 her to hunt. In short, he had feasted and spoiled 
 her like a lover and a courteous gentleman. He had 
 even accompanied her in her wedding visits, although 
 her circle of friends appeared to him unnaturally ex- 
 tended. 
 
 There were many of these pleasures and duties for 
 which M. de Rias had for a long time, like the gener- 
 ality of men of his age, lost the taste and the habit. 
 For his own part, he visited very rarely, making calls 
 only when necessary, or choosing the most agreeable. 
 
76 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 He had formerly been a most passionate leader of the 
 German, but now he could hardly explain to himself 
 how he could ever have indulged in such a childish 
 pastime ; and all sorts of fashionable gatherings, espc' 
 cially where they danced, had become to him abso-, 
 lutely insupportable. 
 
 He passed his evenings at his club, when he did not 
 devote them to study. He still went to theatres, but 
 as a critical amateur, or rather as one who has been 
 much behind the scenes. 
 
 Sustained by his love for his young wife, he had 
 taken up again, and for a time with amiability, some 
 of the tastes of his own youth. 
 
 This bitter-sweet phase of wedlock had, however, 
 been contemplated in his programme, but he did not 
 intertd it should pass to the chronic stage, and he had 
 commenced to dream of quietly settling down, when 
 the fortunate indisposition of Madame de Rias came 
 to solve the problem like an interposition of Provi- 
 dence. 
 
A MARBIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 .77 
 
 A few fears still tormented him; he apprehended 
 that his wife, thus baulked of her enjoyment 
 in the full tide of fashionable hfe, in the height 
 of the season, would rebel against her destiny, and 
 not even try to reason with herself; but in this he 
 was mistaken. If he had his programme, his wife 
 had hers, and that which had happened made part 
 of it ; it was the anticipated, and even • desired, 
 complement of her adornment and dignity as a 
 wife. 
 
 Far from pretending to dissimulate to herself or 
 others her maternal hopes, she took an innocent pride 
 in dwelling upon them. 
 
 Without any hesitation she gave up going out of 
 evenings, and received calls in a loose, flowing robe, 
 lying on an extension-chair. 
 
 All this appeared very reassuring to M. de Rias ; 
 such a complete and cheerful resignation to such a 
 severe trial left him no doubt that he had found in 
 Mademoiselle Fitz-Gerald the ideal of which he had 
 
;8. 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 dreamed, and which is the general dream of his sex — 
 a domestic wife. 
 
 Well satisfied with the present, Lionel cast his eyes 
 confidently towards the future. What could in the 
 time to come alter a union of which each day of inti^ 
 macy drew closer the ties, and established more per- 
 fect harmony? On his wife's side there was no 
 danger to apprehend ; within a few months he had 
 learned to know her well. She was perfectly upright 
 and true ; she had only honest instincts, strengthened 
 by the education and example she had received from 
 an honest mother. She loved her husband, she pos- 
 sessed all that was required to please him, and to 
 attach him to her. Charming to behold, she was not 
 less so to hear, for she was intelligent and witty. Her 
 only defect was in the evident incompleteness of her 
 education — in her instruction ; in several circumstances 
 Lionel would have been able to state that his wife's 
 knowledge of matters historical and literary was 
 strangely vague, but there was even in her very ignor- 
 
A MARRIAGE m HIGH LIFK 
 
 79 
 
 ance somethiqg piquant and most amusing, in her 
 fantastic way of stating things. 
 
 As for M. de Rias, however severely he questioned 
 himself, he could not find himself guilty, nor capable 
 of the wrongs generally attributed by unhappy hus- 
 bands to their own faults. 
 
 Without exaggerating his personal advantages, he 
 was aware of them, and considered he was justified in 
 having confidence in them. 
 
 He was worthy the affection of a wife ; he could 
 not doubt that he had conquered the heart of his own ; 
 by what fault or clumsy blunder might he ever alien- 
 ate it ? He surely was in no danger of breaking up 
 on the usual ordinary rocks ahead ; he could not even 
 take credit for avoiding them, since nothing in his 
 tastes drew him towards them. He was not miserly, 
 and gave Madame de Rias a very liberal allowance 
 for pin-money and for household, expenses. 
 
 He was not a man to demoralize his wife himself by 
 taking her out to sup in private rooms. 
 
8o A MABBIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 He was not blind, and he knew how to keep away 
 from his house perilous intimacies, instead of inviting 
 them, as so many do. 
 
 He had greatly modified his opinion in many things ; 
 besides, he loved his wife, and felt no temptation to 
 inflict upon her the outrage of a rival. 
 
 In short, on his side, as well as on that of Madame 
 de Rias, he saw, after mature examination, nothing 
 but what guaranteed a peaceful union and enduring 
 happiness. 
 
 A gentleman of elegant manners, M. de Rias 
 was also a student, and a man of letters. For- 
 merly he had made a very creditable dedui in 
 diplomacy ; but he had suddenly relinquished that 
 career in order to live with his mother when she 
 became a widow. 
 
 At last, to occupy his idle hours, which weighed 
 upon and mortified ^im, he had commenced, with a 
 good deal of mystery, an important literary work, 
 which elevEited him in his own eyes and inspired him 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 8 1 
 
 with hope of public honor ; it was a History of French 
 Diplomacy in the Eighteenth Century. 
 
 This serious labor was accomplished very slowly, 
 and often interrupted by the distractions of an out- 
 door life. Lionel had always intended to apply him- 
 self to it steadily, when marriage should have made 
 his life more regular, in rendering his home more 
 attractive. That day being come, he kept his word, 
 and thenceforth passed a good deal of his time in 
 culling from the archives of foreign affairs material 
 which he afterward classified, and used in his libraiy. 
 
 In order to diversify this employment, M. de Rias 
 fell back into some of his former habits, which had 
 become almost indispensable to him, and which ap- 
 peared to him honorably reconcilable to the marriage 
 state. 
 
 A connoisseur in art, and something of a sports- 
 man, he loved to follow Parisian life in its incessant 
 and varying manifestations. He liked to watch from 
 
 day to day events as they arose, sometimes from the 
 6 
 
82 A MARRIAGE IN EIQH LIFE. 
 
 parlors of his club, sometimes from the grand stands 
 at the races, and sometimes from the green-rooms of 
 theatres. 
 
 In the meantime, his young wife waited for him 
 with a tender impatience ; he always found her in a 
 state of profound contentment, and his life now real- 
 ized his most ambitious hopes; a smiling face wel- 
 comed him the moment he entered — that of a wife 
 eager to spare him the anxious details of material 
 life ; a chimney-corner always bright, flowers always 
 fresh, an asyluni ready at all times to shelter him from 
 fatigue and annoyance — in short, the charm of a 
 peaceful and luxurious home, added to the interest of 
 his individual pursuits and recreations, was what M. 
 dc Rias had taken delight in fancying would be his in 
 marriage — and he is not the only man who thus 
 dreams. 
 
 Apart from some natural fears, the time that Madame 
 de Rias was obliged to pass on the extension-chair 
 was for her, as for her husband; a delicious period. 
 
A MARRIAGE IN BIGH LIFE. 83 
 
 She was very much visited and surrounded by 
 friends ; her brilliant cousins, Mesdames de Lorris, de 
 Chelles, d'Estr^ny, brought her almost every day the 
 news of the city. Her mother only left her to ran- 
 sack shops, and select materials for an infant's outfit, 
 which were afterwards submitted to Madame de Rias 
 for her approbation. 
 
 Her easy chair, and even the floor, was continually 
 inundated with fine linen, flannel stuffs, lace, ribbons, 
 and strange little articles. 
 
 Mesdames de Lorris, de Chelles and d'Estr^ny chat- 
 tered over them, and offered advice from their ex- 
 perience. Towards the close of the day, M. de Rias 
 fell into the circle of agreeable matrons, and redoubled 
 the animation. 
 
 He generally arrived with his pockets and his 
 hands full of little boxes, large sacs or mysterious 
 packages, which the ladies undid. 
 
 They admired the jewelry, shared the flowers, and 
 ate the sweetmeats — it was a regular high holiday. 
 
84 -A- MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 The arrival of the Countess Jules towards the 
 month of August lent to the above circumstances a 
 graver character. A few days later, she was seen 
 holding at the baptismal font the new-born Louis 
 Henry Patrice de Rias. 
 
 The next day she left with her knitting for her 
 manor-house in the environs of Cherbourg. 
 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. gj 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TV /r ADAME DE RIAS recovered with a prompt- 
 itude which did honor to her constitution, and 
 she soon showed herself on the boulevard in all her 
 maternal glory, escorted by a provincial nurse whose, 
 odd head-dress and black eyes awoke the profane, 
 attention of pedestrians. ' 
 
 Lionel ardently desired that his wife should, nurse 
 their son herself, but Madame Fitz-Gerald, in the- 
 name of the health and beauty of her daughter, had 
 opposed to this desire some of those specious femi- 
 nine arguments to which men have nothing to reply, 
 because they know no better themselves. 
 
 He congratulated himself, however, that the young 
 mother busied herself with her child with solicitude ; 
 
86 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 but he saw at the same time that even this occupation 
 left Madame de Rias considerable lersure. He did 
 not indeed expect to fill all the void ; during the day 
 he led his accustomed life, for it is not the custom for 
 husl^ands to accompany their wives in their visits and 
 in their daily walks, and in this matter he thought he 
 was pleasing his wife in leaving her her independence, 
 even as it pleased him to retain his own. He was not 
 so fortunate as regards the evenings ; both propriety 
 and prudence forbade him to allow Madame de Rias 
 to attend balls and theatres without her husband, and 
 a heightened taste for these recreations manifested 
 itself in the young wife, after the long months of 
 seclusion and abstinence which she had undergone. 
 The Parisian season was particularly brilliant that 
 winter, and Lioriel considered himself lucky when he 
 was not obliged to go to three or four parties the 
 same evening; but his wife had certainly a'^right to 
 some indemnification in the way of enjoyment, and, 
 although his Work and habits w;ere greatly disturbed 
 
A MARRIAGE IN SIGH LIFE. 8/ 
 
 by this feverish gayety, M. de Rias, in the cause of 
 justice and of affection, resigned himself to it with a 
 good grace, at least apparently ; it was, he hoped, only 
 a passing crisis — perhaps he also flattered himself 
 in the bottom of his heart that Providence, which had 
 so bountifully interposed in his behalf the preceding 
 winter, would again come to his aid in this new trial. 
 
 One morning, as they were finishing breakfast, his 
 wife, who had been remarkably quiet and dreamy 
 during the repast, suddenly covered her face with her 
 hands and burst into tears. 
 
 " My dear child, what's the matter now ?" inquired 
 M. de Rias, going to her. 
 
 " Nothing," she said, in the midst of her weeping ; 
 " nothing — I wish to see my mother." 
 
 " But what has happened ? What is the matter ?" 
 " Nothing. Send for my mother, I beg of you !" 
 As slie spoke, Madame Fitz-Gerald, attracted, no 
 doubt, to the rue Vauneaw by some vague presenti- 
 ment, entered the dining-room. Her daughter, with- 
 
88 A MARRIAGE IN EIGR LIFE. 
 
 out giving her time even to be astonished, seized and 
 immediately dragged her into the adjoining room, and 
 Lionel a moment afterwards heard a confused duet of 
 plaintive murmurs and stifling sobs. 
 
 The situation was painful for M. de Rias . he 
 shrugged his shoulders, lit a cigar, and ran his eye 
 over a newspaper while awaiting the end of the con- 
 ference. 
 
 In about a half an hour, which seemed very Ipng to 
 him, the door opened, and Madame Fitz-Gerald ap- 
 peared alone, with red eyes and inflamed face; she 
 promised her daughter to come to see her in the 
 course of the day ; then she shut the door, and; going 
 to her son-in-law, wrapping her furs around her, she 
 said to him : 
 
 " You might dispense with killing my daughter !"" 
 
 After which she walked out majestically. 
 
 M. de Rias, in another difficult position, proved once 
 again that he had the heart and mind of a gallant and 
 honorable gentleman. After subduing, not without 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 89 
 
 effort, the promptings of his pride, he went to his 
 wife, who was still bathed in tears. He talked to her 
 in a way that was reasona.ble, tender and cheerful ; 
 scolded her a little, kissed her a great deal, and 
 jBnished by persuading her that she was a little woman 
 worthy of pity, but at the same time much loved and 
 passably happy. 
 
 When Madame Fitz-Gerald came back, towards the 
 middle of the day, she found them on the sofa, hand- 
 in-hand, smiling at young Louis Patrice going through 
 his primary gymnastics on the floor. 
 
 "You can hardly imagine, my dear," Lionel said, 
 gayly, to his wife, "how hard your mother was on 
 me this morning !" 
 
 "Oh, my friend," replied Madame Fitz-Gerald, 
 slightly appeased by the family scene before her, " I 
 ask a thousand pardons! I was wrong. I confess 
 there are things for which there is no name ; but it 
 seems that such treatment suits her ; therefore I have 
 nothing more to say." 
 
90 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 " It does not suit me, mamma," said Madame de 
 Rias, "but I have reasoned with myself about it." 
 
 "Oh ! well, then it is all right." 
 
 Lionel did not believe that he had paid too dearly, 
 at the price of this slight storm, for the new period of 
 repose, of calm and domesticity, which that morning 
 seemed to inaugurate in his home. 
 
 He already saw unfolding before him a series of 
 peaceful and comfortable months in a charming 
 picture, in which his wife's extension-chair would 
 occupy the centre. 
 
 It was a deceitful mirage. He was not slow to per- 
 ceive that the best expedients wear out, and that the 
 same causes do not always produce the same effects. 
 
 The general health of Madame de Rias was so 
 much better than the year before that she was able to 
 go to parties and other places of amusement during 
 the rest of the winter; she passed the summer at 
 Trouville, in accordance with the advice of an obliging 
 physician, and only resorted to the extension-chair at 
 
A MARRUOE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 91 
 
 the last extremity ; that is to say, during a period of 
 fifteen days. In short, without ill-nature, or pouting, 
 but even with spirit, she appeared to apply herself to 
 the task of demonstrating to certain people that they 
 did not gain much by their Machiavellian calculations. 
 
 M. de Rias fell into a state of moral discourage- 
 ment. 
 
 A charming little girl was born to him, it is true; 
 but would the increase of his young family and the 
 attention demanded by the two children, have the 
 effect of calming their mother's rage for worldly 
 pleasures, and keep her by her own fireside? He 
 hardly thought so, and he was right. 
 
 Madame de Rias gave to her maternal duties the 
 time required by them, but she pursued with un- 
 diminished zeal the only kind of life of which she had 
 any notion, and which seemed to her perfectly correct 
 and irreproachable. 
 
 Lionel tried palliatives. He imposed certain re- 
 strictions, and, in order to induce her to accent them 
 
92 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN SIGH LIFE. 
 
 without murmuring, he managed to secure the aid of 
 his mother-in-law. 
 
 There arose a question of one of those charity fairs 
 which fashionable ladies delight to get up for the 
 benefit of the poor, where, attracted by their fine eyes,, 
 society people clustered around their elegant little 
 shops. Madame de Rias, invited to figure among 
 the beautiful saleswomen, solicited her husband's 
 consent. 
 
 "My dear," he said to her, "you shall certainly do as 
 you please, or rather your mother shall decide for you. 
 Madame," he added, addressing himself to Madame 
 Fitz-Gerald, " your knowledge of the proprieties is so 
 great, your tact is so good and delicate — if you will 
 permit me to say so, so exquisite — what do you think 
 of it ?" 
 
 Madame Fitz-Gerald, thus attacked on her weak 
 point, replied : 
 
 " To speak frankly, I am not crazy about such 
 exhibitions. In my time, there were no Such things.. 
 
MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 93 
 
 It is true that the young women of to-day are not so 
 particular." 
 
 " You hear what your mother says, my dear child," 
 added M. de Rias. " I own that I am quite of her 
 opinion, and that I should be horrified to see the 
 name of my wife in the papers, with pleasant criticisms 
 upon her dress and appearance. I do not desire, in a 
 word, that you should make part of that which is 
 vulgarly called 'all Paris' And while I am in a 
 mood for playing the tyrant, I would like to strike 
 out from the list of your present or future recreations 
 all those which expose a woman to that sort of 
 unhealthy publicity. I see by her looks that your 
 mother approves of what I say, and that encourages 
 me. I would suppress noisy appearances at the race.s, 
 clandestine visits to not-over respectable theatres, to 
 fancy-dress balls, and parlor theatricals ; in fine, always 
 deferring to the good taste of your mother, I would 
 have you avoid all that which your cousin Madame 
 de Chelles seeks and permits herself to do. I would 
 
94 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 even like, if your mother does not gainsay it, to sup- 
 press Madame de Chelles herself, who is decidedly a 
 lady one should not receive — is it not so, dear ma- 
 dame?" 
 
 Madame Fitz-Gerald replied, 
 
 " She is certainly a young woman who is becoming 
 very fast. For that matter, my daughter is not very 
 fortunate in her cousins, except Madame de Lorris, 
 who is perfection itself; but that poor duchess would 
 give me a great deal of disquietude if I had the pre- 
 rogative of being her husband." 
 
 " Oh, mamma !" exclaimed Madame de Rias, who 
 wished to make an end of her sacrifices, " leave me 
 the duchess. It is true, she is something of a coquette 
 — but there is no harm in her, and she pleases me so 
 much !" 
 
 " If she pleases her so much," said M. de Rias, " let 
 us leave her the duchess." 
 
 He did not add, that the duchess also pleased him 
 very much ; it was the truth, however. 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 95 
 
 After having inserted into the pleasures of his wife 
 this species of clipping, Lionel did not feel himself in 
 reality any happier than before. 
 
 At some points, his dignity as a husband, and his 
 susceptibility, had better safeguards, but his personal 
 independence continued very much restricted. With- 
 in the limits he had drawn, Madame de Rias had still 
 a wide circle of active fashionable life, and, obliged to 
 follow her into it, he bore, under his habitually grave 
 and courteous appearance, a sense of profound weari- 
 ness and annoyance. 
 
96 A MARRIA GE IN HIOH LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A BOUT this period, Madame de Rias experienced 
 great regret on account of being separated from 
 one of her cousins, who held the largest and best 
 merited place in her affections. 
 
 Madame de Lorris went to join her husband, who 
 had just returned - from Cochin China, and who in- 
 tended .to pass one or two years at Cherbourg before 
 going to sea again. At the same time, in order to 
 please Lionel, Madame, de Rias allowed her relations 
 with Madame de Chelles to become colder and colder, 
 in consequence of which that lady became her enemy. 
 Her friendship increased for the Duchess d'Es- 
 trfeny, whose languishing graces, tender melancholy 
 and distinguished bearing possessed great attraction 
 
A MABBIAQE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 97 
 
 for her. They had a ball together that year at the 
 Opera and the Fran9ais. 
 
 The duchess returned the sympathy of her cousin. 
 She took an affectionate interest in the happiness 
 of her young household. She asked, fixing upon her 
 her beautiful eyes, bathed in their eternal sadness : 
 
 " Your husband loves you very much, does he not, 
 darling ?" 
 
 " I believe so," Madame de Rias replied. 
 
 "With all his heart?" 
 
 " Yes, it seems so." 
 
 " And you wish for nothing more ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Poor angel ! how happy you are T 
 
 And she kissed her forehead maternally. 
 
 It was a custom of the duchess to cast cuHous, and 
 sometimes not very discreet glances on the conjugal 
 relations of the young wives of her acquaintance. 
 All husbands, except her own, had especial interest 
 for her. 
 
98 A MA RBIA GE IN HIQE LIFE. 
 
 Their manner of living, language and proceed- 
 ings, when in the domestic circle, interested her, 
 and she made mental comparisons, in which, it is 
 to be doubted if the duke obtained the advantage. 
 It is true that the duke continued to joke and tease 
 her about her romantic manias and ideal i:everies; 
 forgetting that one exasperates a sick person by 
 doubting the gravity of his disease, and tempts him. 
 to die of it. 
 
 The duchess, apparently for the purpose of protest- 
 ing against the materialism of her husband, and espe- 
 cially against his excellent appetite, affected to eat 
 very little. She willingly persuaded herself that she 
 could live on fruits and flowers. 
 
 All daylong she nibbled at rose and lilac leaves. 
 As to fruits she only liked the most rare. In all 
 seasons she had pineapples in her hot-house; she cut 
 them herself in thin slices, and kept them beside her 
 on a small table. The duke, with his gross joviality, 
 insisted that she got up in the night, like the ghoul in 
 
A MARRIAGE IN SIGH LIFE. gg 
 
 Arabian stories; that he had followed her, found 
 her seated at a table, devouring a hare and ham- 
 pie. 
 
 "And the quantity she ate," he added, " frightened 
 me!" 
 
 The duchess had dancing at her house every Tues- 
 day, and Madame de Rias was constant in her attend- 
 ance. One night, or rather one morning, when she 
 had entirely forgotten herself in the delights of a co- 
 tillion, indefinitely prolonged, her cousin de Chelles, 
 who was about leaving, said to her over her shoulder 
 as she passed her, 
 
 " When you want your husband, my dear, you 
 will find him in the hot-house, with Sabine, you 
 know." 
 
 Madame de Chelles accompanied this benevolent 
 information with a significant smile, very slight, but 
 it did not escape Madame de Rias. 
 
 She thanked her with a look and continued to 
 dance until she saw her disappear. Then, under the 
 
lOO A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 pretext of fatigue, she made a curtesy to her partner 
 and left him with a careless air, ^ 
 
 She passed through two or three parlors which 
 were almost deserted, and stopped at last before a 
 glass door through which she could see the interior 
 of the hot-house. The young wife looked through 
 the large exotic foliage with which the hot-house was 
 magnificently shaded, and a dhjfl fan through her 
 
 veins. ^Oa^j/i/ 
 
 Nevertheless what she saw was mothing very extra- 
 ordinary. Her husband was peacefully seated on a 
 sofa by the side of the duchess, and they were talking 
 in a low voice and smiling. Their dialogue did not 
 seem even very animated; there were pauses and 
 silences ; at intervals, the duchess plucked the leaves 
 off some violets which had faded on her bosom, and 
 ate them, and from time to time, she threw a few to 
 M. de Rias, who also' appeared to find them very 
 savory. Passing then to something more substantial, 
 the duchess took from a plate of Japanica ware, a 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. loi 
 
 slice of her dear pineapple, and put her white teeth 
 upon it, but she only ate the half of it, and, after a 
 moment's hesitation, during which M. de Rias mur- 
 mured something probably very eloquent, she gave 
 him the other half. 
 
 Madame de Rias, seeing the disquieting progress 
 which followed the poetic repast, judged it unneces- 
 sary to wait for a third course. 
 
 She entered the hot-house noisily. 
 
 " Ah ! you are there, are you ?" she said. " Well, 
 are you coming ?" 
 
 " What, already ?" said Lionel, laughing, and rising 
 hastily; "it's hardly three o'clock, my dear. You 
 astonish me !" 
 
 She received, or rather submitted to, the parting kiss 
 of the duchess, and they left. 
 
 They were hardly in the carriage when Madame de 
 Rias fell into a profound sleep, and Lionel felt the 
 apprehensions which his troubled conscience sug- 
 gested to him die away. 
 
I02 -4 MARRIAGE IN EIGE LIFE. 
 
 Arrived at home, Madame de Rias ' immediately 
 seized him by both hands, almost with violence, 
 and, looking him in the eyes, said, in a broken 
 voice : 
 
 " I am so unhappy !" 
 
 Then she threw herself into an arm-chair, and 
 began sobbing bitterly, biting the lace of her pocket- 
 handkerchief. 
 
 This explosion of grief had been so sudden that 
 M. de Rias was struck speechless ; but soon regaining 
 his wits, he approached his wife, and seating himself 
 at her feet on a stool : 
 
 " Come, Marie," he said, affectionately ; " what's the 
 matter, darling?" 
 
 • And as she only responded by new transports of 
 despair : 
 
 " Oh ! I know !" he continued, " I know what it is! 
 You saw me eating the duchess's violets. It's that, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 She tried to speak in the midst of her sobs. 
 
A XARRIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 103 
 
 " And the pineapple," she said. 
 
 The pathetic way in which she uttered this word 
 1 
 made M. de Rias smile. 
 
 " And the pineapple, too. The list is complete." 
 
 "My misery is complete," said the young wife, 
 sadly. 
 
 " As to that, you cannot think so, my darlinrj girl," 
 replied Lionel. " You are too sensible to take such 
 childishness seriously. You well know it never leads 
 to anything ; above all, with a person like your cousin, 
 who is such a pure spirit, and only speaks in the 
 language of flowers." 
 
 " And fruits," said Madame de Rias, becoming more 
 herself again. 
 
 " And fruits, if you will. I don't pretend to excuse 
 her, mark that. Such coquettishness is highly im- 
 proper. She was wrong to permit it, and I to lend 
 myself to it. But frankly, child, what is the moral of 
 this story?" 
 
 " Frankly,, I see none," said his wife. 
 
104 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 " Well, then, permit me to point it out to you," 
 said Lionel, rising, the better to display his eloquence. 
 " You like society : your life and mine, in consequence, 
 is one perpetual ball. You dance in Paris in the win- 
 ter, at watering-places in summer, and in the country 
 in the autumn. You see no harm in it, which does you 
 honor ; but will you believe my experience ? If people 
 only went into society for the purpose of dancing, 
 nobody would go after he had passed his twenty- 
 second year — there would only be balls for students 
 and boarding-school misses; the fashionable world 
 would close its doors; but, unfortunately, it has an? 
 other kind of attraction — society is only a commerce 
 of gallantry, and that is the true reason for its existence. 
 Dancing is most frequently only a pretext and an 
 opportunity. That which men always • seek, and wo- 
 men willingly, is what they call an interest of the 
 heart, though the heart generally plays a slight part 
 in such matters. It cannot fail to be found — that 
 interest — without even looking for it, because it is in 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 105 
 
 the air, because it is fatal, because it is impossible to 
 imagine that a man who does not dance, who does not 
 play, and who is not a fool, can pass each night three 
 or four hours by the clock without experiencing the 
 unhealthy temptations of ennui. Thus it might hap- 
 pen that, without ceasing to love you truly and 
 entirely, I might some day find myself in some sort 
 unfaithful to you. 
 
 " As to you, my dear, you are as yet given over to 
 the innocent delights of dress, of liveliness and Terp- 
 sichore ; but there will come a time when these pure 
 pleasures will appear stale to you, if they are not re- 
 lieved by recreations of a higher class, 
 
 " In brief, do you wish to know what future is in 
 store for us, if we continue to whirl around in the 
 fashionable vortex with so much fury ? I can tell you 
 in two words. I shall deceive you — ^you will weep, 
 and you will forgive me. You will deceive me — I 
 shall not weep, and I will not forgive you !" 
 
 " I will give up society !" murmured the young 
 
I06 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 wife, drying a couple of tears wrung from her, less by 
 the thought of her sacrifice, than by the dryness of 
 her husband's language. 
 
 " I do not require that. I only ask you to go into 
 it with a little more moderation ; and to permit that, in 
 my own defence, I leave you more frequently to the 
 protection of your mother." 
 
 " I will go out no more !" repeated Madame de 
 Rias, perfectly overwhelmed. 
 
 " You think so, darling. Whatever you do will be 
 right. Good-night ! Pardon me, or rather, pity me, 
 for you know how I hate pineapples !" 
 
 He kissed, and left her. 
 
 He left her, it must be owned, well pleased with 
 himself. By a skilful manoeuvre, he had made of his 
 fault a grievance, and not.only extricated himself from 
 a difficult situation without trouble, but advanta- 
 geously. In the first place, he had regained, by the 
 most honorable pretext, the entire freedom of his 
 evenings, but flattered himself that, in the second 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 107 
 
 place, he had narrowed, more and more, Madame de 
 Rias's sphere of action, in reducing her to a fixed 
 point in the house — that finished and sublime type of 
 the pure, domestic wife. 
 
lo8 -4 MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 'T~*HE next day, Madame de Rias dressed herself 
 in a toilette of severe simplicity, and remained 
 at home all day. She practiced her gamuts on the 
 plant), and began a piece of embroidery. In the 
 afternoon she received a visit from the Duchess 
 d'Estr^ny, who arrived in even a more languishing 
 condition than usual, which was not surprising, as she 
 had eaten nothing since the day before. The two 
 cousins kissed each other, according to custom, after 
 which Madame de Rias took up her work again, and 
 applied herself to it with extraordinary industry. The 
 duchess regarded her with inquietude. For some 
 time the conversation dragged along in common- 
 places, then entirely broke down, and the silence was 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 109 
 
 broken only by the crackling of the fire and the sighs 
 of the duchess. 
 
 " Are you sick ?" asked Madame de Rias, dryly, 
 without raising her eyes from her embroidery. 
 
 "Why do you ask me that ?" 
 
 " Because you sigh continually." 
 
 " Yes — I am suffering a little, and I have a constant 
 desire to weep." 
 
 " Why do you desire to weep ?" 
 
 "Ah! you know — always the same thing." 
 
 "What thing ?" 
 
 " I am so unbappy with my husband." 
 
 " And you hoped to be more happy with mine," 
 said Madame de Rias, brusquely, turning her head 
 suddenly, and locking the duchess full in the face. 
 
 Madame d'Estr^ny, after a few seconds of mute 
 confusion, glided down to the feet of her cousin, and, 
 half fainting in the amplitude of her skirts, burst into 
 tears. 
 
 "What must you think of me?" she murmured. 
 
no A MABRIA QE IN HIOE LIFU. 
 
 " I think that you are not a good friend. That is 
 what I think !" 
 
 " I assure you that I am — I assure you. It was a 
 moment of folly. I have been jealous of you — of 
 your happiness — it is true. But I have been so pun- 
 ished, so humiliated— 'I have seen so well that your 
 husband did not love me !" 
 
 "You do not expect me to offer you my con- 
 dolences for that, I suppose ?" 
 
 " He only loves you — so be content." 
 
 "That is Jiot your fault, Sabine. Come, get up. I 
 have told you what I have in my heart. Let us not 
 talk of it any more." 
 
 " I have caused you a great deal of unhappiness, 
 Marie," said the duchess, whose tears redoubled. 
 
 "A great deal," answered Marie, who began to 
 soften, and whose tears likewise began to flow. 
 
 "My poor darling!" 
 
 "I had so much confidence in you," replied 
 Madame de Rias, in a choking voice. 
 
A MARRIA OE IN BIOH LIFE. 1 1 \ 
 
 " Ah ! Heavens !" sobbed the duchess. 
 
 The end of this scene was lost in a confusion of 
 tears and kisses. 
 
 When M. de Rias came home, toward evening, he 
 found his wife stitching away at her embroidery, with 
 an air of zealous pre-occupation. 
 
 " Heavens ! my dear child," he cried. " Can I 
 believe my eyes ? What are you doing there ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I am embroidering a collar for my mother." 
 
 " Ah ! it is a collar, is it ? for your mother ? Well', 
 it is very pretty — you make this thing quite nicely. 
 I had no idea you possessed that talent. Why it is 
 very far along toward completion. You must have 
 worked at it all day." 
 
 " All day." 
 
 " What ! not gone out at all ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Not to the Petit Saint Thomas ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Nor yet to the Guerre ?" 
 
112 A MARRIAGE IN HIOH LIFE. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " The end of the world must be near then," said M. 
 de Rias, paying his young wife with a kiss, which 
 appeared to him dehcious. " You must not make a 
 nun of yourself, my little darling ; you must take a 
 little air during the day. And so you have been all 
 alone since this morning ?" 
 
 " The duchess came," said Madame de Rias, in a 
 careless tone. 
 
 "Ah! Indeed. 'The duchess came,' — indeed ! and 
 — how did you separate ?" 
 
 " Oh ! very well. The same as usual." 
 
 " Good little woman," said Lionel, embracing her. 
 
 " We cried a little together. That is all." 
 
 "Ah! that, of course." 
 
 Dating from that day, Madame de Rias, without 
 restricting herself daily to such rigorous seclusion, 
 showed a laudable resolution to modify her habits of 
 life. She no longer went out at night, and would 
 scarcely appear even in a high-necked dress in the 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 "3 
 
 few quiet parties of the family. To those who were 
 astonished at no longer seeing her in society, 
 
 "Well, what would you have?" Madame Fitz- 
 Gerald would say, elevating her eyes skyward. " My 
 daughter is quite happy at home; my son-in-law is 
 so amiable, so educated and full of resources." 
 
 Fruitful in resources as was M. de Rias, it was diffi- 
 cult, for him to fill the immense leisure which he had 
 imposad upon his wife. His occupations and his own 
 especial amusements did not allow him to appear at 
 home save at rare intervals during the day ; in the 
 evening he remained in her company after dinner for 
 a few moments, listening to one or two waltzes, and 
 then went to his library, or to promenade in the town. 
 He escorted her sometimes to the theatre. But he 
 often abandoned her to her own resources, evidently 
 imagining that she had as many a^ he. The truth is 
 that their intimacy, not being sustained by any intel- 
 lectual interests in common, was painfully difficult. 
 
 Conversation between them languished into an em- 
 8 
 
114 
 
 A MARRIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 barrassing sterility. With an intelligence which was 
 naturally very vivacious and frank, Madame de Rias 
 was trammelled with that remarkable ignorance of 
 everything peculiar to young French women. Of 
 matters of art, of literature, of history, of politics, she 
 possessed only the superficial and confused notions 
 with which a Parisienne becomes imbued from day to 
 day. It sometimes happens at last that these crude 
 notions get classified and consolidated in the head of 
 an intelligent woman, and compose for her, willy-nilly, 
 a reasonable basis of instruction and conversation ; 
 but in the case of Madame de Rias they were still only 
 in the state of vapor, and her startling ignorance, 
 which had immensely diverted her husband at the 
 cutset of their love and marriage, no longer amused 
 him. One day he came in, full of vexation : 
 
 " My dear child," he said to her, rudely, " do you 
 intend to render me ridiculous ?" 
 
 " How so ? my dear." 
 
 " Why, you are telling everybody that I am writing 
 
A MARRIA OE IN HIOE LIFE. 1 1 5 
 
 A History of French Diplomacy in the Eighth Cen- 
 
 " Well, I thought so. You told me so." 
 
 " I never told you such an absurd thing ! What 
 French diplomacy do you suppose there could have 
 been in the Eighth century — ^before Charlemagne ? — it 
 is silly! When one confounds the Eighth century 
 with the Eighteenth, they may speak of figures, but 
 not of history !" 
 
 " I ask your pardon, my dear," said the frightened 
 young wife ; " but at all events, the ridicule, if there is 
 any, falls upon me." 
 
 " It falls on us both, my dear." 
 
 The little parlor of Madame de Rias was more than 
 once the theatre of such scenes as this. The symp- 
 toms of ennui which she could not always repress 
 — ^the yawnings, languors and furtive tears — irritated 
 her husband. 
 
 " It is incredible," said he, " that women cannot 
 please themselves in their own homes. They must 
 
1 1 6 A MABBIA GE IN HIOH LIFE. 
 
 absolutely be in the streets ! Eh! mon Dieu! How 
 do you suppose the honest women of other days got 
 along, when what we call high life did not exist ? At 
 Rome, for instance, an honest wife did not spend her 
 days in shopping and her nights in dancing. She 
 reared her children and spun tranquilly, and she was 
 happy. I don't ask you to do exactly that. But you 
 have a thousand means of occupation. You have 
 your children, your household, your flowers, your 
 embroidery, your piano, as many books as you please. 
 You have your religious duties — and yet you are half 
 dead with ennui. It's very annoying." 
 
 When he came home in the evening, he often found 
 her asleep over her embroidery or a number of a 
 magazine. Sometimes he surprised her in a confi- 
 dential Ute-oi-t^te with her mother, and saw that they 
 had been crying. His pride was wounded — perhaps 
 his goodness also. 
 
 " I do not like," he said to her one day, " the. airs 
 of a victim that you affect and that your mother 
 
A MARRUGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 117 
 
 seems to encourage you in. I am not a jailer. If 
 you remain at home every evening, grieving and 
 lamenting, it is because you choose to do so. You 
 know perfectly well that I have authorized you to go 
 into society with your mother whenever it suits you. 
 Go then ; and I will call for you, from time to time, 
 as I return from my club." 
 
 The young wife, who felt that her heroism had 
 come to an end, and upon whom his arguments, bor- 
 rowed from Roman history, had made but a feeble 
 impression, willingly profited by his permission, and 
 was not slow to throw aside her high-necked dresses — 
 as a butterfly does its chrysalis. She triumphantly 
 re-entered society, as her natural element, and plunged 
 into it more and more, with the innocent and thought- 
 less ardor of her age. 
 
1 1 8 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 T N order to do justice to all concerned, it is neces- 
 sary to say that M. de Rias was a great deal more 
 unhappy than his wife. While she was giddily enjoy- 
 ing her youth, her beauty, and her successes, her hus- 
 band sadly meditated on the ruins of his last illusions, 
 ' and saw with profound bitterness the misery and vul- 
 garity of appearance which his home began to 
 assume. 
 
 One evening in January, after having promenaded 
 on the boulevard for some time, with only his sombre 
 thoughts for company, he mechanically entered a 
 theatre, into which the curious public were at the 
 moment crowding. They were attracted by the bril- 
 liant performances of a young actress named Jeanne 
 
A MABBIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 119 
 
 Sylva, who had recently arrived from Russia, with a 
 well-merited reputation for beauty and talent. Made- 
 moiselle Jeanne Sylva, when she left Paris for St 
 Petersburg, several years before, was but a third-rate 
 soubrette. From that simply nebulous state she now 
 returned with the rank of a star of the first magnitude, 
 and the Parisian, public confirmed by its applause the 
 legitimacy of this rapid promotion. 
 
 Lionel, who had not yet seen Mademoiselle Sylva, 
 but had heard a great deal of talk about her at his 
 club, was greatly astonished at recognising in her an 
 obscure figurante Avhom he had formerly met in some 
 theatre, but whom he had not otherwise remarked. 
 He admired, as everybody did, her brilliant metamor- 
 phosis, and thought it his duty to go behind the 
 scenes and pay her a compliment between the acts. 
 
 We have sometimes heard it said, in society, that 
 the prestige of actresses ended behind the scenes, 
 where could be viewed, near at hand, all the horrible 
 artifices of which they avail themselves— the Jezebel- 
 
1 20 -A. MABRIA GE IN BIGH LIFE. 
 
 like painting an^ ornamentation of their faces. But 
 we must deem this an error ; for if their prestige ends 
 anywhere — which is possible — it is assuredly not 
 behind the scenes. On the contrary, it is there that 
 they show themselves in all the strength of their 
 singular fascination. The white, the red, the black 
 and the blue, of which they make use to put their 
 beauty in theatrical perspective, lend them, when off 
 the stage, a strange brilliancy, slightly supernatural, 
 which makes of them a very seducing sort of phan- 
 toms. Then, too, the alchemy with which they paint 
 themselves, has another advantage, that of pleasing- 
 the olfactories, and the atmosphere of perfume which 
 they spread about them has a subtle intoxication in 
 itself We cannot, therefore, counsel mothers of 
 families to send their sons behind the scenes in order 
 to disenchant them with theatrical loves. The result 
 of the experiment would, we believe, be the reverse 
 of their hopes. 
 
 Lionel found Mademoiselle Sylva in the midst of 
 
A MABBIA QH IN BIOH LIFE. 1 2 1 
 
 that apotheosis of illumination which the dazzling blaze 
 of many gas-lights throws over all behind the scenes. 
 She was standing, and, with the grace and smiles of a 
 queen, receiving the laudations of a circle of fanatics 
 in white cravats. M. de Rias waited for the crowd to 
 leave him space to approach in his turn, when he saw 
 the gaze of the young actress suddenly fixed upon 
 him, and her features assume an extraordinarily serious 
 expression. For a moment she remained silent and 
 motionless ; then, clearing the group which sur- 
 rounded her, came to him, and laid the tips of her 
 gloved hand upon his arm. 
 
 " And you here ?" she said to him. 
 
 "You do me the honor to recognise me, made- 
 moiselle ?" exclaimed Lionel, overcoming his surprise. 
 
 " Naturally," she said, laughing, as if she had re- 
 plied to her own thought. 
 
 Then, with her large eyes and painted eyelids 
 regarding him seriously and fixedly : 
 
 " You are here !" she continued, with a deep sigh ; 
 
122 -4 MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 " well, one must confess that there are good moments 
 in life." 
 
 After a pause, she added : 
 
 " You comprehend nothing of this, do you, mon- 
 sieur?" 
 
 " Your pardon, mademoiselle, but are you not labor- 
 ing under some mistake ?" 
 
 " Oh 1 no, M. de Rias ; no, I assure you !" replied 
 Mademoiselle Sylva, with an inflection of infinite sad- 
 ness in her voice ; " but tell me, frankly, how do you 
 find me?" / 
 
 " Very beautiful." 
 
 She made a gesture of impatience. 
 
 " Yes ; but tell me, have I talent ?" 
 
 " Very much. You moved me greatly a little while 
 ago. You are a great artist." 
 
 " Well," said she, gayly, " I repeat it — there are 
 good moments in life. Farewell, sir." 
 
 " But, mademoiselle," said Lionel. " You cannot 
 leave me in this way. Between us there seems to be 
 
A MARBUQE IN HIOH LIFE. 123 
 
 a mystery, an enigma — I do not know what. May I 
 not know the word which will explain it?" 
 
 " Is it necessary ?" said Mademoiselle Sylva, lean- 
 ing her pretty head on one side. 
 
 " It would be very agreeable to me." 
 
 "I do not know. You are married, it appears ?" 
 
 M. de Rias replied by a light bow of grave acqui- 
 escence. 
 
 " Yes," she said. " You are married — I am- an old 
 woman — '[she was twenty-eight years of age] — ^we 
 can treat then this story of youth as pure childishness, 
 and, in reality, it is nothing else. So, sit down there." 
 
 She made him sit near her, in "a retired corner, upon 
 a garden bench. 
 
 " Do you remember having sometimes met behind 
 the scenes, some five years ago, an humble little girl 
 who then simply called herself Jeanne ?" 
 
 " I remember perfectly." 
 
 " Imperfectly, would be nearer the truth, I think ; 
 but, no matter — I had then neither beauty nor talent, 
 
124 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 but I had a very tender heart, very ardent and very 
 ambitious. You often came to flirt with my grand 
 companions, and you appeared to me a man — how 
 shall I express it? — not very handsome, but very 
 good-looking, and with superior manners. Thank 
 Heaven ! I have a foot thick of white on my cheeks — 
 I did not permit myself to. love you, but I did permit 
 myself to admire you. I was nobody — nevertheless, 
 it seemed to me that if you would address to, me a 
 word of kindness and of sympathy, it would give me 
 , the courage of a lioness, and I would become some- 
 thing. I tried one evening to attract your attention, 
 as you were passing near me to pay homage to my 
 greatest comrade — whom I detested cordially; but, 
 poor good woman, I pardon her now. I let fall at 
 your feet a flower from my bouquet — it was a white 
 lilac, if I remember rightly — with the purpose of 
 opening a conversation — you understand. You quietly 
 put your boot on my lilac, but, remarking my pitiful 
 little face, thought you had wounded me, and said to 
 
A MARBIA QE IN HIGH LIFE. 125 
 
 me, ' I beg your pardon, little girl !' — and passed on, 
 going to your loves. I — I hid myself in this very 
 same corner where we are now, and wept." 
 
 When Mademoiselle Sylva was at this point of her 
 recital, the call-boy came to respectfully warn her 
 that she was wanted on the stage. 
 
 "Oh! gracious!" she exclaimed, rising hurriedly; 
 " I forgot." 
 
 She picked up her skirts hastily, kicked back her 
 trail with her heel, composed her face, and, respiring 
 the air like a thoroughbred racer starting upon the 
 course, ran upon the stage. It was at the end of the 
 act, and she had only a short scene, but a very 
 dramatic one. Lionel vaguely heard her musical 
 voice resound in the midst of a silence so profound 
 that one, not seeing, might have imagined the theatre 
 empty. Then came a piercing cry — to which the 
 audience responded by prolonged applause and a 
 frantic recall. After having gone before the curtain 
 two or three times, the young artiste, tottering and 
 
126 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 breathless, her lips half open, her eyes ablaze with 
 excitement, seized the two hands that Lionel held out 
 to her. 
 
 "After all, it is to you that I owe this!" she said; 
 then, letting herself sink down upon the bench near 
 him, continued : 
 
 " I do not know where we were-^besides, I must be 
 brief, I have to change my dress between the acts. 
 Well, in short, in spite of my grief, I set out for 
 Russia, swearing to leave my little self buried beneath 
 its snows or to come back with talent. You see how 
 singular it all is, and how tenacious these childish 
 dreams are. I have had great ti-iumphs there, and 
 here also since my return, for the public is very kind 
 to me, but I have never been really happy until I saw 
 you come in a little while ago. Then I was happy— 
 completely so. And now I must go." 
 
 She arose, and held out her hand to him. 
 
 "Shall I see you again ?" 
 
 " I do not really know," said Lionel ; " we have both 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIOH LIFE. 12; 
 
 just passed an enchanted hour. Do you not fear 
 that real life would break the charm ?" 
 
 " It is possible," she said, softly. " As you wish." 
 And she disappeared behind the wings, 
 M. de Rias left the theatre, and took the road 
 homeward, a prey to violent agitation of mind. He 
 was far from being insensible to the seductions of the 
 adventure, which appeared to be thus clearly offered 
 to him. His hopes of legitimate and domestic happi- 
 ness were now nothing more than bitter remem- 
 brances. Why should he not accept this agreeable 
 diversion, which came to draw him from his deserted 
 and melancholy fireside ? Nevertheless, he hesitated^ 
 He understood that this moral failure would be deci- 
 sive in his life. To yield to this temptation would be 
 to achieve his own wreck, and render it irremediable; 
 for, in fine, that which he had hoped in his marriage 
 was not only happiness, it was also respect for himself, 
 the propriety of life and the dignity of mature age. 
 Because he had missed finding happiness, should he 
 
1 28 -^ MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 then abandon all the rest to drift away? Should he 
 let the passions of his youth slowly re-establish their 
 empire over him, to transform him, little by little, in 
 the disorders of the libertine-husband and the vices 
 of an old man? 
 
 His wife had gone out that evening, as she almost 
 always did. She had gone to a ball with her mother.. 
 He could not then seek from her his inspiration, but 
 he thought of his children, whom he loved, and for 
 whose sake his honor was doubly dear to him, and at 
 their cradle he resolved to take counsel. 
 
 It was his custom, when Madame de Rias was not 
 at home, to pass through her room in order to go to 
 that of his children. He crossed her apartment, and 
 to his great surprise found that she had come in, and 
 had been, probably for a long time, in bed and askep. 
 
 She slept with one arm under her head. The pale 
 and ardent image of the actress, which had followed 
 Lionel up to that moment, suddenly disappeared 
 before that charming face, pure and calm as a flower. 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HI6H LIFE. 
 
 129 
 
 He stopped and looked at her ; his heart melted, and 
 he felt enter into it a flood of love and confidence. 
 No, all was not lost! On her chaste forehead, and in 
 that bosom which rose and fell as lightly as that of an 
 infant with the gentle respirations of sleep, were the 
 innocence and virtue of a child Why then despair ? 
 What was there between them? Nothing. A few 
 shadows, some misunderstandings, that one word, one 
 minute of affection, one impulse of the heart, would 
 dissipate for ever. If he should try ? If he should 
 say to her, " Listen to me ! I love you, and you love 
 me — we are both honest people — we have our happi- 
 ness in our own hands; nevertheless, it escapes us. 
 Why ? Let us inquire together, why ? Will you ?" 
 
 As he approached her, she suddenly awoke; her 
 look, vaguely astonished at first, at meeting the eyes 
 of her husband, immediately took on an expression 
 of anxiety and even of alarm ; her eyelids were lightly 
 pressed together, and she threw herself back in an 
 
 attitude of timid defiance. 
 9 
 
I30 
 
 A MARRIAGE iN EIGE LIFE. 
 
 M, de Rias became suddenly very pale; a rigid 
 coldness iced his features, and, smiling bitterly : 
 
 " Oh ! fear nothing," he said. " I was going to the 
 children. I did not know you had come in ; it is a 
 miracle to see you at this hour; and permit me to 
 tell you, since the opportunity presents itself,' that 
 you dissipate a great deal too much ; you are at home 
 neither night nor day. It is a little too much." 
 
 " If you were here oftener yourself>" said the young 
 wife, " you would know that my children occupy me 
 every day until three o'clock, and that I never go out 
 at night without putting them to bed. My duties 
 accomplished, I divert myself as I can : I go into the 
 world, as all women of my condition do. It is you 
 who make the trouble. I do not. You do not wish 
 to accompany me, and you do not desire either, as it 
 appears to me, that I should go with my mother. 
 What do you wish, then ? That I should be simply a 
 piece of furniture in your house ; a piece of furniture 
 that feels nothing, that thinks nothing, does no good, 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 131 
 
 which must be always in its place, inert and immo- 
 bile, waiting for your rare presence and good 
 pleasure ? If that is what you wish, say so !" 
 
 " I wish nothing,'' said Lionel, in a tone of cold 
 disdain. " Adieu, Marie !" 
 And he left the room. 
 
 There had been in his adieu an accent so serious 
 and profound that the young wife suddenly compre- 
 hended its grave signification. ' They were separated. 
 She made a gesture of despair, half arose and almost 
 sprang out of bed to call back, by a cry, him who was 
 leaving her, him whom she had so much loved, and 
 whom she still loved above all. Then, seized with a 
 sort of convulsion of grief, she plunged her face into 
 her pillows and in them stifled her sobs. 
 
132 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 '' I "WO years passed. 
 
 From the commencement of July, Madame de 
 Rias had been settled at Deauville for the season, 
 with her mother and children. She lived in Rose- 
 bush Villa, the garden of which opened on the terrace 
 between the Casino and the downs. She was sur- 
 rounded by a goodly number of friends from Paris, 
 and, in particular, Mesdames de Chelles and d'Es- 
 tr^ny. Madame de Chelles, with whom she had 
 unfortunately resumed her former relations, was at 
 Villers, the duchess at Houlgate. The three cousins 
 were very neighborly, and formed the nucleus of a cir- 
 cle that did-'not plume itself on its melancholy. Some 
 few of their winter waltzers were spread along the 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 133 
 
 shore, by chance, and contributed, as they thought, to 
 the animation of the landscape. They imposed upon 
 themselves the task of composing and putting on the 
 scene of action, by land and sea, daily some new 
 recreation : sailing parties, fishing parties, horseback 
 parties, picnicing under the trees, and returning by 
 moonlight. 
 
 Sometimes, in the evening, this brilliant band would 
 triumphantly invade some one of the casinos on the 
 beach; but more frequently they danced among them- 
 selves, or had parlor theatricals in the drawing-room 
 of one of the ladies, or sometimes in tamarisk groves, 
 decorated with Venetian lanterns. A good deal of 
 gallantry was blended with all this amusement; 
 it was a very gay life for everybody, except for 
 Madame Fitz-Gerald, who followed it wilih some 
 weariness, and for M. de Rias, who did not follow 
 it at all. 
 
 As for him, he made Paris his watering-place, 
 according to his custom, and paid rare and short 
 
134 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 visits to Rosebush Villa, for the edification of the 
 public and of his domestics. 
 
 There had never been between his wife and him the 
 shadow of a scene, or of an explanation; what their 
 intimacy could have been may be divined. It was 
 that miserable state of latent and permanent hostilitj' 
 which prevails in so many households, where one can 
 never utter a word without being contradicted by the 
 other; where each word is an allusion, a rancorous 
 and bitter reproach. 
 
 Madame de Rias saw with pleasure disappear from 
 her horizon the sombre and ironical face of her hus- 
 band. On the other hand, Madame Fitz-Gerald 
 brought all her graces to bear — vainly, it is true — ^to 
 keep near her a son-in-law who had not realized all 
 her hopes, but for whom she still retained a certain 
 weakness, and whose light gallantries she did not take 
 too seriously to heart. 
 
 " That which astonishes me in my son-in-law," she 
 said, confidentially, to the Marquise de la Veyle, who 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 135 
 
 was sojourning at Trouville, "that which astonishes 
 me in my son-in-law, is not that he should deceive 
 my daughter, but his attitude towards her. Well, let 
 him deceive my daughter — (it appears that he has 
 broken off with that Sylva — ^the corps de ballet has 
 great attractions for him, it seems.) Very well, then, 
 let him deceive my daughter — one sees that done 
 every day to married women ; but what one does not 
 see every day is his malicious, wicked, disagreeable 
 manner with my daughter. He is still charming for 
 me — quite charming ; he is an exceedingly agreeable 
 man when he pleases." 
 
 " I know it — the beast !" muttered the old marquise. 
 
 " When with my daughter he does nothing but sulk. 
 Not content with playing her false, day and night, he 
 sulks. You must admit that such conduct in a man 
 as intellectual as my son-in-law is something incom- 
 prehensible. What does he want ? To drive her to 
 extremes ? Let him deceive her as much as he pleases, 
 but let him at least be amiable with her — that's the 
 
136 A MABELA.GE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 first thing; otherwise, my daughter will finish by 
 losing her head — for she is surrounded by admirers. 
 I have, it is true, the most entire confidence in her 
 principles; but, after all, she is not a stone. I like my 
 son-in-law very much, in spite of his undoubted 
 faults. I should be wretched if anything happened— 
 but he is too light — he is too light !" 
 
 " He is a fool !" said the marquise ; " I tell you he 
 is a fool ! Don't talk to me any more about him 1" 
 
 The fears which the instinct of the woman and the 
 mother awoke in Madame Fitz-Gerald were unfortu- 
 nately but too well founded. Madame de Rias had 
 arrived at that fatal hour, which, from his own experi- 
 ence, her husband had predicted. Little by little she 
 wearied of the noisy enjoyments of her first youth. 
 Worldly excitement, dress, the dance, the perpet- 
 ual holiday of her life, no longer sufficed for her. 
 Her imagination and her heart alike craved to add 
 to these commonplace pleasures a livelier interest, 
 somthing new and more serious. 
 
. i 
 
 A MABRIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. 1 37^ 
 
 It can readily be understood that there were not 
 wanting plenty of people around her ready to second 
 such desires. 
 
 It is not rare that the excitements and struggles of 
 vanity join with the workings of passion to determine 
 the preferences of a woman. In the social groups 
 which meet for the purpose of convenience or pleasure, 
 there is always some individual to be found who seems 
 to usurp, in particular, feminine smiles and coquetries, 
 and whose conquests are not only a satisfaction of the 
 heart, but a triumph of pride. 
 
 In Madame de Rias's surroundings, this agreeable 
 part was played by the Viscount Roger de Pontis, a 
 relative of the Duchess d'Estrfeny. He was one of 
 those good-for-nothing fellows whom everybody likes. 
 After having squandered his wealth on the turf, at 
 twenty-five years of age he entered a regiment of 
 hussars. He displayed great bravery and rose rap- 
 idly to the rank of lieutenant. Then, having unex- 
 pectedly inherited a fortune, he retired into civil life. 
 
138 -4 MARRIA OE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 His follies, his courage, his adventures in war and 
 love, strongly recommended him to the interest of the 
 ladies ; they loved him for these qualities even more 
 perhaps than for his vices. Besides,' he had-the merit 
 of disposing of himself for them in every way. He 
 would ride a dozen leagues on horseback at night to 
 buy a skein of silk, which he afterwards held, sitting at 
 their feet, while they unwound it. He sang senti- 
 mental songs to them, gave them lessons in horseback- 
 riding, led the German, organized charades, got . up 
 picnics, lunches, fireworks, and gratified all and every 
 fancy of which they advised him. He was the same 
 to all, ready to please all, nimble and gay as a page, 
 supple and burning as a tiger. 
 
 Under this appearance of an amiable fool, Roger 
 Viscount de Pontis was a man, and above all an 
 amorous man, very skilful, very experienced, and very 
 dangerous. 
 
 Much struck with Madame de Rias> he had imme- 
 diately, with one glance, judged what sort of woman 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 139 
 
 she was, and had perfectly well understood that so 
 new and strong a place could not be carried by one 
 blow from a hussar. He proceeded by adroit 
 manoeuvring. 
 
 He first surprised her by taking very little notice 
 of her, while directing a spirited attack against her 
 two cousins. Madame de Rias, who was, and knew 
 she was, the flower of the flock, conceived a spite 
 against him, and affected to return contempt for con^ 
 tempt. 
 
 It was the first success for which M. de Pontis .could 
 score himself a good point. He thus explained him- 
 self to her ; his coldness was respect ; no one paid 
 court to a woman like her. Why? Because men 
 felt her to be above vulgar attentions ; and besides — 
 might he say it? — she frightened him. It was 
 strange, but it was so. A woman like her could only 
 inspire a serious and durable attachment, a lasting 
 love, and M. de Pontis had always feared a passion of 
 that kind gaining upon him, precisely because he 
 
140 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 I 
 knew the terrible empire it would take upon his life. 
 
 He was wrong, perhaps, for such a sentiment would 
 be, without any doubt, the end of that foolish career 
 for which he already blushed ; it would be his restora- 
 tion and his safety — but he was afraid of it. 
 
 On this text there are a great many pretty things 
 to say, and he said them. 
 
 The idea of losing herself to save the hussar at first 
 appeared singular to Madame de Rias. She was 
 nevertheless flattered at having been chosen before all 
 others to effect such a miracle, and, while very pro- 
 perly resisting his advances in a capable manner, she 
 insensibly permitted her young heart to dwell upon 
 this seductive chimera. 
 
 In brief, this intrigue, skilfully followed up, seemed 
 approaching a serious point, when the appearance of 
 a new personage on the scene threw momentary 
 trouble into the viscount's play. 
 
A MARRIA QE IN HIGH LIFE. 1 4 1 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 'T^OWARDS the end of July, Madame de Lorris, 
 whose husband had ^one to sea some months 
 previously, joined the Marquise de la Veyle at Trou- 
 ville. 
 
 She was accompanied by her brother, Henry de 
 Kevern, whose name has already been mentioned in 
 these pages, but whom we now present for the first 
 time to the reader. 
 
 M. de Kevern was a man of cold and severe bear- 
 ing, but possessing a heart capable of loving pro- 
 foundly. He still, in the depths of that heart, wore 
 mourning for his young wife, a charming woman — 
 whom he had lost a dozen years before. His despair 
 at this sorrow was so great that his sister feared he 
 
142 ^ MABBIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 would do something terrible ; but he began to travel, 
 taking long voyages, the interest and perils of which 
 somewhat assuaged his sorrow, but never consoled 
 him. Through all, he had preserved the melancholy 
 which caused him to withdraw from the world. 
 When he returned to France he lived principally in 
 the country, and saw few besides his sister, who, 
 prompted by her affection, was constantly devis- 
 ing ingenious means of winning him from his 
 retiracy. Such extraordinary conjugal fidelity had 
 passed into a proverb in high Parisian society, 
 in which M. de Kevern was considered a hero by 
 the women, and by the men as one who strains after 
 effect. 
 
 The day after her arrival, Madame de Lorris ran to 
 Madame de Rias, with whom she had always been 
 united in a firm friendship, even though in her youth- 
 ful wisdom she blamed a manner of life which 
 Madame de Rias excused by pleading her husband's 
 neglect and her domestic misery. Aftex the first 
 
A MARRIAGE IN SIGH LIFE. 143 
 
 warm greetings, and as they mutually related their 
 news: 
 
 " By-the-by, dear," said Madame de Rias, " there is 
 A gentleman in love with me." 
 
 " Only one ?" inquired Madame de Lorris. 
 
 Madame de Rias blushed slightly. 
 
 "Oh, as to that," she replied, "lovers are rank 
 weeds which flourish at the seaside; but this is a 
 new one. He puzzles me, because his face is not un- 
 known to me ; but I cannot remember where I have 
 seen him — perhaps in a dream. IJe is very ridiculous, 
 this gentleman; for three days he has followed me 
 everywhere, on foot and on horseback ; he passes and 
 repasses the house. Yesterday I was at Trouville, 
 where I saw his nose flattened against every window 
 of every shop I entered. This morning he waited for 
 me to come out of church. I assure you he bores 
 me." 
 
 " What sort of a looking man is he ?" 
 
 " A man very well dressed — a well-bred air — ^but a 
 
144 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 little pre-occupied — ^I don't know how exactly. What 
 would you advise me to do, if he continues ?" 
 
 " I advise you to pay no attention to him. But are 
 you sure that it is you whom he is following ?" 
 
 " Child !" exclaimed Madame de Rias, shrugging 
 her shoulders. " Ah !" she added immediately, " look ! 
 there he is !" 
 
 They were seated at the end of the parlor, in a sort 
 of semi-circle, which commanded a view of the ter- 
 race, and some of the panes were open. 
 
 Madame de Lorris glanced at the mysterious un- 
 known, whom Madame de Rias pointed out by an 
 inclination of the head, and began to laugh. 
 
 " Is that your admirer ?" she asked. " Well, dear, 
 I hope you may never have a more formidable one." 
 
 " Do you know him ?" Madame de Rias inquired 
 eagerly. 
 
 Without replying, Madame de Lorris leaned a little 
 out of the window, and waving her handkerchief 
 called, 
 
A MABBIAGE IN HIOH LIFE. 145 
 
 " Henry!" 
 
 " M. de Kevern !" cried Madame de Rias. 
 
 " Himself, my dear. He came a. little before I did. 
 I always ^counted on introducing him to you some 
 day ; now the opportunity presents itself. As to his 
 ardor in following and looking at you, he is entirely 
 innocent, poor man ! I can explain it in one word. 
 You resemble his wife." 
 
 M. de Kevern responded to his sister's call with 
 more submission than enthusiam : he quietly opened 
 the little gate of the garden surrounding the house, 
 and slowly mounted the outside stairs leading to the 
 parlor. 
 
 The two young ladies met him on the stoop. 
 
 " My brother !" said Madame de Lorris, " my cousin 
 de Rias !" 
 
 Madame de Rias, who had seen M. de Kevern be- 
 fore, hardly remembered him, but knew his history by 
 heart, did not find him the sentimental and dolorous 
 
 tenor that she had pictured to herself Small, quick 
 10 
 
146 -4 MARRIAQE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 and robust, with sunburnt skin and black hair getting 
 gray on the temples, he looked like an office* of the 
 chasseurs d, pied in civilian's dress. 
 
 The look which he fastened upon her with evident 
 curiosity was firm and almost hard. He seated him- 
 self for a few minutes. He questioned in a brusque 
 voice about her children, tastes, pleasures ; received 
 her answers with a cold and absent air, and went as 
 he had come, leaving her only moderately pleased 
 with his visit and his person. 
 
 " And you say that I resemble his poor wife ?" she 
 asked Madame de Lorris, when he had gone. 
 
 " A great deal. I have been often struck with the 
 likeness, and I am sure that he noticed it." 
 
 "You really think that he noticed it?" 
 
 " He told me so." 
 
 " One would think that he feels unpleasantly towards 
 me on account of it ; it is not, however, my fault. 
 
 "What makes you think that? He don't please 
 you, then ?" 
 
A XABRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 H7 
 
 " Why do you think that he does not please me ? 
 He is a shade too dark for my style of beauty ; but 
 he is your brother, and, of course, I like him. Do 
 you wish me to love him ?" 
 
 " No, not that j but be agreeable to him, I beg of 
 you. I so much want to save him from himself. He 
 is so unhappy, so good, and I owe him so much. 
 You know he brought me up." 
 
 " And made you the little treasure that you are !" 
 interrupted Madame de Rias, kissing her cousin. 
 " Well, never fear, darling ; we will cheer him up, we 
 will cheer him up — it will not be au easy task, but we 
 will buckle to it." 
 
 Madame de Lorris, who was always thinking how 
 to lure her brother from his solitude, had employed 
 her most tender eloquence to induce him to accom- 
 pany her to Trouville. 
 
 She relied on the familiarity of habits and the 
 facility of relations which characterize seaside resorts, 
 to gradually lead him into the world again. The 
 
148 A MARBIAGE 11^ HIGH LIFE. 
 
 strange resemblance with which nature hafl endowed 
 her cousin de Rias, and the especial attraction this 
 likeness would offer to her brother, certainly had not 
 entered into her calculations; but she saw in it a 
 chance of success, of which she availed herself with- 
 out any scruple; for this wise young woman was, 
 however, but a woman, and her love for her brother, 
 which was almost the only passion of her , heart, 
 blinded her to the fact that it was a little equivocal to 
 make use of, even to forward the most honest scheme, 
 so delicate a circumstance. 
 
 Madame de Rias, on her side, only half understood 
 the part assigned to her by the diplomacy of Madame 
 de Lorris, and accepted it with good grace, mingling 
 with it a strong 'dose, of curiosity, and perhaps a little 
 malice. 
 
 This innocent plot did not meet with all the resist- 
 ance from M. de Kevern which had been feared. His 
 sister, during the long absences of her husband, was 
 condemned to an existence, very retired and almost 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 149 
 
 austere for her age; he was her only protector; he 
 alone could give her a little liberty and enjoyment by 
 accompanying her into society from time to time. 
 
 He often reproached himself with not having the 
 courage to go. Perhaps, unknown to himself, he took 
 a melancholy interest in Madame de Rias. However 
 that may be, he consented to dine with her the next 
 day. She invited him and his sister in the evening to 
 a picnic the day after, and he consented again, so that 
 she was not slow to believe^that M. de Kevern was 
 an overrated man, and that he fell below his reputa- 
 tion. 
 
 " His innocence began to weigh upon him at 
 last !" she laughingly said to her cousin, Madame de 
 Chelles, in a classical line, caught up at the Theatre- 
 Fran9ais. 
 
 After the picnic, at which M. de Kevern had dis- 
 played encouragingly good temper, they had a little 
 dance at Madame de Rias's. 
 
 She thought it would be pleasant to make this in- 
 
ISO A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 consolable widower dance, and, skipping up to him 
 suddenly, she tried to carry him off for a waltz. 
 
 M. de Kevern refused her with a very dry " No," 
 strengthened by an icy look. Little accustomed to 
 such sort of checks, the young woman spitefully made 
 him a profound courtesy, and hid her confusion in the 
 arms of Viscount Roger, who desired nothing better. 
 The waltz over, she lighted a cigarette, as if for 
 bravado. M. de Kevern approached her, and bow- 
 ing with a smile which g^ve to his grave face a sweet 
 charm, 
 
 " I ask your pardon," he said ; " you found me very 
 sulky a little while ago, did you not ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Come, madame," he said kindly, "let us under- 
 stand each other. Out of good-will for my sister, and 
 for the pleasure of meeting you, I decided to reap- 
 pear in society. I try not to be a death's-head in it. 
 I do not wish to display my sorrows — but you know 
 them ; why do you not respect them ? Do you wish 
 
A MABRIA GE IN HIGH LIFE. 1 5 1 
 
 to render me ridiculous? It is not well — it is not 
 the part of a friend — and I hoped that you would be 
 a friend to me !" 
 
 There was in these simple words a tone of frank- 
 ness and of confidence which touched Madame de 
 Rias, who had a foolish, but in nowise bad heart. 
 
 She held out her hand to M. de Kevern, and said 
 to him with affectionate gayety: 
 
 " Let me be a second sister, then." 
 
 " I pray yoii to be so !" said Kevern. 
 
 After a pause and a puff of her cigarette, she replied 
 with a serious air : 
 
 "It is certain that I have need enough of a 
 brother." 
 
 M. de Kevern bowed, without reply. 
 
 " You think so. Is it not true ?" 
 
 " You say so," he answered. 
 
 " When you are not content with me, you will 
 scold me, will you not ?" 
 
 " Certainly — immediately, if you wish." 
 
152 ■&■ MAB.R1A GE IN SIGH LIFE. 
 
 " Well." 
 
 " Well," said he, smiling, ""' do not smoke !" 
 
 A roseate tint flushed over the charming features of 
 the young woman ; she let her cigarette drop. 
 
 " It is agreed/' she said, seating herself at the piano. 
 
 For a few days following the above conversation, 
 Madame de Rias went through the farce of submit- 
 ting her acts and gestures to the control and apprecia- 
 tion of M. de Kevern. She interrogated him upon 
 her dress: Was it too "loud?" On her manner of 
 waltzing : Was it right ? On certain expressions that 
 she used : Were they not too " fast," or too familiar ? 
 Did he approve of her yellow boots ? Should she 
 carry a cane? M. de Kevern lent himself to this 
 childishness with a sort of calm and slightly disdain- 
 ful irony ; but she saw that he blamed all that she 
 said and did in general and in particular. 
 
 " Decidedly, my dear," she said, to Madame de 
 Lorris, one day, " your brother is a bore." 
 
 Nevertheless, the " bore " interested and impressed 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 I53' 
 
 her. The strong individuality of M. de Kevern, his 
 superior intellect, the romantic tinge in his life, the 
 authority of his character, at once energetic and 
 gentle, inspired her with respect and admiration. 
 
 Perhaps it only depended on himself to take the 
 place in the young woman's heart which had been 
 usurped by the Viscount de Pontis; but as to that, M. 
 de Kevern did not even think of it. He limited him- 
 self scrupulously to the fraternal part which Madame 
 de Rias had attributed to him, and when his young 
 friend, carried away by her coquettish habits, tried to 
 enliven a little their calm relations, he resorted to 
 severities of look and language, which pitilessly re- 
 pressed these irregular manoeuvres. 
 
 Women, unfortunately, do not greatly love those 
 who only love them by halves, and Madame de Rias, 
 in the crisis through which she was then passing, 
 eager for some interest and feeling in her life, was less 
 disposed than any other woman to taste the simple 
 sweets of mutual sympathy. 
 
154 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 The burning viscount, excited by the struggle, at 
 the same time redoubled his skill, his rapture and his 
 audacity. He risked writing to her, and she received 
 his letters. 
 
 The lookers-on saw that the frequent asides, the 
 flashings of their eyes, supplicating glances from one 
 party, and softening ones on the other, announced the 
 near and fatal climax of the adventure. 
 
 These precursory symptoms might have escaped M. 
 de Kevern, if Madame de- Rias had not evinced a 
 strange desire to make him a witness of them. In the 
 heart of woman there are mysteries so unfathomable 
 that we cannot undertake to divine why Madame de 
 Rias, so eager in general to please M. de Kevern, 
 forced him to submit to tests which could not but be 
 disagreeable to him. She did better still. One fine 
 evening in August, as they were returning on horse- 
 back from a farm that M. de Chelles owned in the 
 environs of Caen, where they had dined gayly, she 
 suddenly left the company of the Viscount Roger, in 
 
A KAREIA6E IN HIGH LIFE, 1 5 5 
 
 order to join Kevern, who was riding a little apart, 
 and, profiting by the shades of night, she indulged in 
 tihis singular language : 
 
 " I have something to say to you, sir." 
 
 "Well, madame." 
 
 " Your friendship is very precious to me — ^nothing 
 can be more 50." 
 
 " I am very happy to hear it." 
 
 " But do you believe that a friendship, how- 
 soever precious it may be, can fill the heart of a 
 woman ?" 
 
 " I have not the pretension to think so." 
 
 " Well, if some day a stranger sentiment should 
 take possession of me, if I should sacrifice duty to it, 
 as they have tried to make me do — as you know — 
 might I always count on your friendship ?" 
 
 " No !" Kevern coldly replied. 
 
 " What ! no ? Would it not be in my misfortune — 
 in my fault, if you will, more useful, more helpful 
 than ever?" 
 
156 A MARRIAGE IN HIOH LIFE. 
 
 " It is possible, but the part of confidant in a love 
 affair does not suit me." 
 
 " At least, if it should happen — you would not feel 
 hard against me ?" 
 
 " I would feel very hard." 
 
 " Because you would be jealous ?" 
 
 " I should not be jealous, for I have no love for 
 you, and never can have. The memory of my wife, 
 whom you reseriible, protects me against you ; but I 
 should feel very hard towards you, if you should put 
 a blemish on that memory. Do you understand ?" 
 
 " No," she answered. " It is too deep for me." 
 
 She whipped up her horse, and went to take her 
 place in the principal group, where he heard shouting, 
 with laughter. 
 
 Supper was awaiting them on their return, in the 
 cottage that Madame de Chelles occupied on the 
 beach at Villers. Of course they danced afterwards 
 until daylight. 
 
 M. de Kevern desired that his sister should be 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 157 
 
 amused, but not at that point, and so he refused 
 to stop at Villers, and with her continued on the 
 road to Trouville. They had brought Madame de 
 Rias, whose mother had gone to pass a few days in 
 Paris. It was natural that she should return in their 
 company, and they would leave her at her house ; but 
 she would not go so early, and it was agreed that she 
 should be taken back later by her cousin de Chelles, 
 who never went to bed until the last extremity. 
 
 After some minutes of a silent ride in the charm of 
 a midsummer night, 
 
 " Louise," said M. de Kevern, brusquely, " that poor 
 child is lost!" 
 
 " Oh, my friend !" cried Madame de Lorris, dole- 
 fully. 
 
 " Perfectly lost ! It is very provoking ! Her hus- 
 band is neither a fool nor a knave. What is he thinkr 
 ing of?" 
 
158 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 T T was about eleven o'clock in the evening, when 
 Madame de Lorris entered the embowered cottage 
 in which she dwelt with her brother on the quais de 
 Trouville. Almost immediately after, to her great 
 surprise, M. de Rias was announced as being at the 
 door and desirous of speaking with her. She con- 
 sulted her brother by a glance. 
 
 " Certainly," said he, " receive him ;" and he left 
 the room. 
 
 M. de Rias presented himself with a very cheerful 
 air, or at least he endeavored to wear that appear- 
 ance. 
 
 " I am committing a great breach of etiquette," he 
 said, " and I beg of you to excuse it ; but I know that 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 159 
 
 my wife left home with you this morning, and I have 
 taken the liberty of coming to learn if I shall have 
 the pleasure of seeing her again." 
 
 " Very probably," said Madame de Lorris : " but, sit 
 down." 
 
 " No, I cannot sit ; have the kindness to tell me 
 simply where my wife is, and I will go." 
 
 " She is at Villers, with the de Chelles, who will 
 bring her back to you themselves in a short time." 
 
 " But why did she not come back with you ?" 
 
 " I was a little tired, and did not wish to take her 
 away from her friends so soon. But when did you 
 arrive ?" 
 
 "At five o'clock. I came by the husbands' train, 
 of course. They told me on my arrival that my 
 mother-in-law was in Paris, with my children, and 
 they did not know where my wife was ; upon which I 
 
 made a very agreeable dinner, and here I am. I 
 
 hope that I look ridiculous enough. Good-night, 
 dear madame." 
 
l6o A MARRIAGE IN HIGE LIFE. 
 
 " Good-night ! If she should be a little lite in re- 
 turning do not be uneasy." 
 
 " No ! no ! Good-night 1" 
 
 He wai going, when the young woman called him 
 back, softly touching his arm with the end of her 
 riding- whip : 
 
 " M. de Rias ?" 
 
 " Madame ?" 
 
 " You do not look well ! Are you suffer- 
 ing?" 
 
 " Not at all, thank you." 
 
 " You will not scold Marie too much, when she 
 comes back." 
 
 He looked at her, as if astonished, without reply- 
 ing. She continued, 
 " You must remember that she is a little neglected," 
 
 He still looked at her fixedly, and, after a moment's 
 pause, said : 
 
 " Then you condemn me — you also !" 
 
 " I love Marie a great deal." 
 
A MABRIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. jgi 
 
 " And I have also greatly loved her," said Lionel, 
 in a solemn voice. 
 
 " And now ?" asked Madame de Lorris. 
 
 " Now, madame — it is very different." 
 
 Then, with a sudden burst of feeling, 
 
 " She is neglected, you say. It is true ; but what 
 man of sense and honor could associate hipself with 
 a life like hers ?" 
 
 " Excuse me," said she, with the same sweetness as 
 before, " but is yours any better ?" 
 
 " Mine ! Great Heavens ! was it not she herself 
 who drove me into it ?" 
 
 " Can she not say the same on her side ?" 
 
 " Oh ! without doubt," replied Lionel, with bitter- 
 ness, " she has given you her reasons. If, however, 
 there is a person in the world who should be just to 
 me, it is yourself, for I am very unhappy — yes, un- 
 happy in the highest degree — and in truth you your- 
 self are the cause." 
 
 " I !" 
 ' 11 
 
1 62 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 " You, yourself! I entreat you not to see in my 
 words an intention of gallantry which would be out of 
 place at this moment, but deign to recall that evening 
 which decided my fate, that evening when my poor 
 god-mother combatted my too-well-founded objec- 
 tions to matrimony. It was not her eloquence which 
 triumphed^ I assure you. It was you alone. It was 
 your presence, your example ; I looked at you and I 
 said to myself: ' Well, yes, there are wives like that 
 after all. Happiness is possible !' " 
 
 " M. de Rias," said Madame de Lorris, " spare me, 
 I beg of you, and permit me to tell you that I have 
 been acquainted with your wife for a long time ; that 
 she is greatly superior to me in every particular, and 
 that she was, also, at least as worthy as myself to 
 make the happiness of an honest man." 
 
 " Be it so," coldly replied Lionel. " It is I, then, 
 who have ruined her. Adieu, madame !" 
 
 M. de Rias crossed the bridge which unites the 
 rival territories of Trouville and Deauville, and walked 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 163 
 
 along the seashore road to Rosebush Villa. He 
 reached it a few minutes after midnight. Madame de 
 Rias had not yet returned. He went in and tried to 
 read ; soon he gave that up, and commenced to pace 
 his room in an excited promenade, unhappily destined 
 to be a long one. 
 
 As the time rolled by in this vain watch, all his 
 griefs, all his resentment against his wife — exasperated 
 by the painful events of this evening — mounted to his 
 brain in waves of choler ; for, let it be said in his praise, 
 Lionel de Rias had not, as many others would have 
 done, taken a part in the disorder of his household. 
 He was one of those for whom marriage, when it has 
 ceased to be a charm, becomes an agony. The wo- 
 man upon whom he had reposed his hopes of happi- 
 ness, and who bore his name, could become odious to 
 him, but never indifferent. He did not pardon her 
 for having destroyed the ideal, a little vague, perhaps, 
 but, after all, honest and sinceire, that he had formed 
 to himself of marriage. He said to himself, not with- 
 
l64 ^ MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 out some appearance of reason, that he had been for 
 her such a husband as one sees very seldom — tender, 
 generous, delicate, and even faithful, up to the time 
 when she herself had broken, with her own hand, the 
 conjugal tie. From that time she was happy. Her 
 giddinesses, her frivolity, her vanity, obtained full sway 
 over her, and sufficed for her. As for him, his life 
 was a failure. He no longer found in the distractions 
 and giddiness of youth aught but vacuity, ennui and 
 disgust. He was the most unhappy of beings, dis- 
 couraged and disenchanted with everything— his fire- 
 side and his work; without aim, without ambition, 
 without dignity, and perhaps soon to be — thanks to 
 her — without honor. And it was her whom they 
 pitied, him whoni they accused. The thought that 
 the honest and kind Madame de Lorris was one of 
 his accusers, did not contribute to calm his irritation. 
 
 The first rays of dawn surprised him in these bitter 
 reflections. It was toward the end of the month of 
 August. Almost five o'clock in the morning, and 
 
A MARBIA GE IN HIGH LIFE. 165 
 
 still Madame de Rias had not returned ! To pass an 
 entire night out of the house, without her mother and 
 without her husband, in company with fast young 
 men, and under the sole shield of Madame de Chelles, 
 was assuredly a very serious escapade. Lionel felt 
 that his patience was exhausted ; he descended to the 
 stables, saddled a horse, and mounting, took the road 
 to Villers. 
 
 The road from Deauville to Villers, as most of our 
 readers know, after having followed for some time the 
 straight line between the plains and the drives, winds 
 up the side of a rocky cliff which overlooks the ocean. 
 The acclivity is long and steep, M. de Rias was 
 mounting this inclined plane, with his horse at a walk, 
 when a noise of voices and laughfer came floating to 
 him from the distance, and struck his ears clearly in 
 the silence of the early morning. After an instant 
 this noise ceased, and other sounds succeeded to it. 
 The earth resounded under a heavy and rapid tread, as 
 if a band of runaway horses were mounting at a 
 
1 66 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 gallop the other side of the cliff Suddenly the sum- 
 mit on that side was reached by the cavalcade, and 
 Lionel saw, outlined upon the azure of the still pale 
 sky, the silhouettes of cavaliers and ladies on horse- 
 back. He immediately comprehended that his lost 
 wife must be one of the ornaments of that society. 
 
 The cavalcade, having reached the plateau, moved 
 slowly and descended towai-d him. The joyous 
 voices, cries and laughter were heard with redoubled 
 force — then suddenly sank to a vague murmur, and 
 this in turn died away in a dull silence. It would 
 seem that they had perceived, in the light of the dawn 
 and in the centre of the white road, the figure of the 
 solitary horseman, vidette-like, m their path. They 
 had even probably recognised him. 
 
 M. de Rias continued to advance with a tranquil 
 mien until within a few paces of the brilliant squadron. 
 Then he stopped, and, without permitting any sign of 
 emotion to appear, < '%er than extreme pallor, saluted 
 them. 
 
A MARRIAGE IN BIOS LIFE. 167 
 
 " I ask your pardon/' he said, addressing his wife, 
 in a voice calm and low, " but I was a little uneasy, 
 and have come to seek you." 
 
 " You see," said Madame de Chelles, " that she is in 
 good company." 
 
 " Excellent," replied Lionel ; " and I am very grate- 
 ful to you. Are you coming, my dear ?" 
 
 He bowed again, turned bridle, and at the side of 
 his wife took the direction of Deauville ; while Ma- 
 dame de Chelles and her cortege returned to Villers. 
 
 After a moment of painful silence between the pair, 
 
 " When did you arrive ?" asked Madame de Rias. 
 
 " Yesterday evening." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 There was a long pause ; then she spoke : 
 
 " Did you see my mother in Paris ?" 
 
 " No, she will be back in two days." 
 
 " You know that she has taken the children with 
 her ?" she inquired. 
 
 " I know." 
 
l68 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 They were then at the foot of the hill, and a gallop 
 put an end to the languishing conversation. A few 
 minutes later they entered the court-yard of the villa. 
 Without exchanging a word, they mounted the stair- 
 case which led to their respective apartments. 
 
 At that moment, when Madame de Rias opened the 
 door of her chamber and was about to close it behind 
 her, " 
 
 " Excuse me," said Lionel, and followed her in. 
 
 Hardly was the door shut and the young wife, 
 hesitating and uneasy, stood before him, her long rid- 
 ing habit thrown over her arm — 
 
 " Well," said he, fixing upon her a look full of 
 anger, "you lead the life of a common woman de- 
 cidedly." 
 
 Madame de Rias became as white as bleached wax. 
 She appeared to totter, let fall her train to the floor, and 
 leaned heavily upon the first piece of furniture which 
 her hand reached — then, immediately recovering her 
 self-possession, and braving the look of her husband : 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 169 
 
 " I thought," she said, " that the way to please you 
 was to resemble those women." 
 
 " You see that it is not so," replied Lionel, in a 
 hard tone. " Ah !" continued he, with growing excite- 
 ment, "you complain that you are neglected, that 
 you are, for your husband, only the mistress of a 
 day. Very well ; it is the truth ; you are nothing else. 
 And do you know why ? It is because you resemble 
 those women ; because we seek in our wives the oppo- 
 site of those women ; because that which pleases us in 
 them we view with horror in you ; because we demand 
 of you that you differ from and not resemble them ; 
 that you make us forget, not remind us of them. 
 And you do not even resemble them — you are only 
 pale and badly-painted copies of them. You imitate 
 their dresses, adopt their manners, ape their tone and 
 language; you have all their weaknesses, their wild 
 dissipation, their ignorance; you have, like them, a 
 contempt for duty and a dread and fear of children ; 
 but, believe me, that is not enough ; you are always 
 
170 ■&■ MARRIAGE m HIGH LIFE. 
 
 vanquished in this miserable struggle ; you lose your 
 own charm and you never attain theirs ; you are no 
 longer honest women ; and you are not even cour- 
 tesans ; you are wives without virtue and mistresses 
 without vice. You are nothing !" 
 
 To this merciless tirade, Madame de Rias, whether 
 in her own heart she owned its cruel truth, or dis- 
 dained its cruel injustice, did not reply. She pushed 
 back her dress with her foot and advanced toward the 
 bell-rope. 
 
 " Permit me," said she, " to call my maid. I am a 
 little tired." 
 
 Lionel immediately went out, bearing against his 
 wife a new grievance, that of having provoked in him 
 a violence of language contrary alike to dignity and 
 good taste. 
 
 Two or three hours later, a carriage waited in the 
 court-yard to take him to the depot. In the vestibule 
 he met the maid of Madame de Rias. 
 
 " Madame is still sleeping, doubtless," he said to her. 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 171 
 
 "Yes, sir. Madame is asleep," replied the girl, 
 dryly. 
 
 " I will not awake her. I have already informed 
 her that I am forced to leave for Paris to-day." 
 
 And he took his departure. 
 
172 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 TN the afternoon of that same day, Madame de 
 Lorris came to her cousin to obtain some informa- 
 tion of the events which had transpired. Struck 
 with the alteration in the features of Madame de Rias, 
 and with her feverish excitement, she pressed her 
 with questions, and received a detailed recital of the 
 conjugal scene to which she had been subjected in the 
 morning. She was in such a violent condition of 
 excitement that Madame de Lorris deferred the re- 
 proaches that the giddiness of her conduct seemed 
 to merit, and restricted herself to overwhelming her 
 with affectionate caresses. She was astonished at 
 receiving a sort of resistance. 
 
 " Do not kiss me so much, Louisette," said Ma- 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 173 
 
 dame de Rias to her, smiling bitterly, " you will per- 
 haps repent it, by and by." 
 
 " Why so?" 
 
 " I will tell you." 
 
 She arose, with an abrupt movement, took a letter 
 from her blotting-case, and throwing it open, upon 
 her cousin's knees, said : 
 
 " There, read that !" 
 
 Madame de Lorris ran her eyes over it in haste. 
 It was from the Viscount de Pontis, and contained, 
 with expressions of burning and pressing passion, a 
 solicitation for an interview that night, for which the 
 absence of Madame Fitz-Gerald afforded an oppor- 
 tunity which might never occur again. M. de Pontis 
 supplicated Madame de Rias not to drive him to 
 despair by refusing to grant him a few moments of 
 private conversation in the garden of her villa. He 
 would be at the garden gate between eleven o'clock 
 and midnight, and would there await life or death. 
 
 " How can you expose yourself to the receipt of 
 
174 ^ MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 a letter like that ?" said Madame de Lorris, severely. 
 " I hope, at least, that you have replied to it as you 
 should." 
 
 " You are right," replied Madame de Rias, with a 
 strange smile; "yesterday I replied to that letter as I 
 should, because yesterday I was an honest wife ; but 
 to-day I am a ' common woman,' and I am going to 
 reply to it in that character !" 
 
 She seized a pencil and rapidly traced, under 
 the signature of the viscount, a single word — 
 " Yes " — placed the letter beneath the eyes of 
 Madame de Lorris, sealed, and addressed it and 
 rang. 
 
 Madame de Lorris regarded her with an air of 
 stupor. 
 
 " Marie !" she cried, " I pray you " 
 
 A servant entered. 
 
 "Jean," said Madame de Rias, "you must go imme- 
 diately, on horseback, and carry this letter to Houl- 
 gate, to its address." 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIOH LIFE. 175 
 
 Then going quickly to Madame de Lorris, the mo- 
 ment that the servant had retired : 
 
 " Do not waste your words," she said. " Say noth- 
 ing to me — not a word. Leave me. Go back to your 
 home. Leave me to weep !" 
 
 " You drive me away, Marie ?" 
 
 " Yes, I drive you away. Go !" 
 
 " My poor child !" said Madame de Lorris, fixing 
 upon her a look of sweetness and profound pity, " I 
 shall love you always — you know that. Calm your- 
 self—you are too much excited in this moment to 
 listen to me — so be it ; I will come back again." 
 
 She kissed her hands and quitted her. 
 
 Toward six o'clock, after having made several visits, 
 she returned. They told her that Madame de Rias 
 was gone out — that she would not dine at home. By 
 the embarrassed manner of the servant, she under- 
 
 stood that her cousin had given orders that she would 
 not receive her. 
 As she was re entering her carriage, with an almost 
 
176 A MABRIAOE IN BIGH LIFE. 
 
 broken hearty a little note was given to her, from 
 Madame de Rias. She opened it anxiously, and there 
 read simply this half line : 
 
 " Say nothing to your brother." 
 
 The thought that this note immediately suggested 
 to Madame de Lorris was precisely to tell all to her bro- 
 ther. She had need of counsel. Her mother-in-law, 
 Madame de la Veyle, had returned to Paris several 
 days before, and the situation was too urgent to per- 
 mit the delay of an appeal to her. On the other hand, 
 the singular pre-occupation which had dictated the 
 note from Madame de Rias attested that M. de 
 Kevern had obtained over her a certain influence, 
 through which it might not, perhaps, be impossible to 
 draw her from the verge of this abyss. Madame de 
 Lorris ran to her brother's room, threw herself on her 
 knees before him with the grace of a child, and 
 recounted to him, in a low and animstted voice,, the 
 sad incidents of her visit to her .cousin'de Rias. She 
 terminated her recital by showing to him the note 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 177 
 
 which she had just received ; then, with all the elo- 
 quence of her large tearful eyes, implored him to save 
 from shame the dearest friend of her youth, 
 
 M. de Kevern had listened to her without permit- 
 ting the least expression to appear upon his serious 
 face. When she had finished, 
 
 " My dear little one," he said to her, with kindness, 
 "I understand your grief, and I too am unhappy 
 about it, but what do you wish me to do ? I am 
 almost a stranger to the young woman. How can 
 you wish me to enlist in a struggle against a husband 
 and a lover who are in such perfect accord to push 
 her into the abyss ? It would not be possible ! 
 Because, my intervention would not be proper — and, 
 finally, I cannot force her door." 
 
 " If you would write to her," timidly suggested 
 Madame de Lorris. 
 
 " What the deuce do you wish me to write to her ?" 
 
 " Whatever you think !" 
 
 M. de Kevern thought a moment, with a wearied 
 12 
 
178 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 air, then drawing his work-table to himy he wrote the 
 following laconic note : 
 
 " You will be very unhappy to-morrow. 
 
 Kevern." 
 
 " Send that to her, if you will, my dear," he said ; 
 " but I warn you that it is absolutely useless. If you 
 would only reflect that it is going to a woman pos- 
 sessed at the same time by the passion of vengeance, 
 and that of Ipve, you would comprehend that it is but 
 a drop of water thrown on a great fire." 
 
 " I will ask for a reply." 
 
 "You can do so," said M. de Kevern, with calm 
 irony. 
 
 An hour afterward, as they were finishing dinner, 
 the servant who had taken the note was introduced 
 into the dining-room ; — Madame de Rias had said 
 that it was all right — ^that there was no answer. 
 
 M. de Kevern took Madame de Lorris out upon the 
 beach. He felt that she trembled and shuddered on 
 his arm. 
 
A MARRIAGE IN EIQH LIFE. 
 
 179 
 
 " You are very much distressed, my poor Louise," 
 he said to her. 
 
 " Yes, a great deal ; and then the eveniijg seems 
 cold. One would think the autumn was already 
 here. 
 
 " Very well, then, do you know what we must do ? 
 We must go back, light the fire and give ourselves 
 the pleasant illusion of a sweet winter-evening at the 
 corner of a peaceful fireside. It is something, when 
 one is suffering, to at least have smiling surround- 
 ings." 
 
 ' They went in and were soon seated in the little 
 parlor of the cottage, to which the flame and crack- 
 ling of the fire lent an air of gayety and homelike 
 comfort. Madame de Lorris had taken up her faith- 
 ful embroidery and her brother, sitting before her, 
 read to her an article from the Revue. At first she 
 appeared to listen with attention, but as the evening 
 advanced she became absent-minded ; her eyes wan- 
 dered every instant from her needle to the clock, and 
 
1 8o ^ MARRIA OE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 — ■■- — " \ 
 
 her features betrayed the agony that was in her heart. 
 Eleven o'clock had just sounded, when M. de Kevern 
 saw tears escape from the eyes of the young woman, 
 and fall, drop by drop, upon her embroidery. He 
 interrupted his reading and took her hands. 
 
 " Come ! my darling, what is the matter ? Come !" 
 
 " I cannot help it," she murmured ; " she told me 
 to weep for her — and I weep!" 
 
 And she sobbed aloud. 
 
 Suddenly she raised her head and quickly dried 
 her eyes. A carriage was heard stopping before the 
 entrance to the cottage. A few seconds later, some 
 one mounted the stairs. She arose precipitately and 
 ran to the door of the parlor, which she opened. She 
 heard the rustling of silk, and an instant after saw the 
 face of Madame de Rias, beautiful and pale, emerging 
 from the darkness. Uttering a cry, "Marie! Ah! 
 won Dieu" she seized her, embraced her and stifled 
 her with kisses. 
 
 Much moved and trenlbling, Madame de Rias drew 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. i8i 
 
 herself from the arms of her cousin and said to her, 
 with a sort of joyous pride: 
 
 " My dear, can you lodge me ?" 
 
 " Lodge you ?" 
 
 " Yes ; would you believe it ? I am afraid at night 
 in the absence of my mother' and my children. I 
 remembered that your mother-in-law had returned 
 to Paris, and I thought perhaps you would let me 
 have her room for a couple of nights." 
 
 " I will, indeed !" cried Madame de Lorris. 
 
 She rang for her maid, and, while she was giving 
 her some orders in a low voice, Madame de Rias 
 advanced to M. de Kevern — who had discreetly held 
 himself aloof since her arrival until now, — and ten- 
 dered him her hand. 
 
 " Thanks !" she said. 
 
 M. de Kevern bowed profoundly, without reply. 
 
 She seated herself between the brother and sister, 
 methodically unrolled her embroidery work, which, 
 judging by its appearance, had not seen the light foj 
 
1 83 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 several years, and put herself at her ease in a large 
 arm-chair. 
 
 " You have a fire," she said ; " what a good idea ! 
 How comfortable you are here I" 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 183 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 T^ATING from that moment, a long and spirited 
 correspondence took place between the principal 
 personages in this story. 
 
 We merely publish the letters necessary to the 
 thread of the narrative. 
 
 Madame de Lords to Monsieur de Rias, at Paris. 
 " Trouville, 23d August. 
 "Dear Sir: 
 
 " Yesterday, after your departure, your wife had 
 the happy thought of coming to ask my hospitality. 
 Do you approve of this ?" 
 
 Monsieur de Rias to Madame de Lorris. 
 " Dear Madame : 
 
 " I think it excellent." 
 
1 84 -4 MARBIA6E IN HI6H LIFB. 
 
 Madame de Lorris to Monsieur de Rias. 
 " You encourage me. Do you authorize me to 
 show you that I am very indiscreet ?" 
 
 Monsieur de Rias to Madame de Lorris. 
 " The more indiscreet you are, the better I shall be 
 pleased." 
 
 Madame de Lorris to Monsieur de Rias. 
 
 "I don't know that I ought However, I shall 
 
 commence. 
 
 " My Dear Cousin.^I was not so insensible as I 
 may have appeared to the reproachful flattery which 
 you paid me last Saturday evening. I was, according 
 to you, the determining cause of your marriage ; that 
 it was .my dazzling merit which had given you such a 
 good idea of my sex that all your objections to matri- 
 mony were suddenly dissipated, like a fog before the 
 morning sun. Very well. I accept the compliment, 
 provided you will allow me to fulfil the duties which 
 it imposes upon me. I regard it as a point of honor 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 185 
 
 to realize the hopes I made you conceive. I wish 
 that your home may be happy. You will tell me 
 that it is too late ; I do not believe it, and I consecrate 
 myself to proving the contrary. But it is necessary 
 that you should second me by your confidence and 
 good-will. I must exact of you some sacrifices. For 
 example (I am taking soundings now), are you the 
 man, in spite of your being essentially Parisian, to 
 undertake a little voyage out of France, when I shall 
 have shown you the opportunity?" 
 
 Monsieur de Rias to Madame de Lorris. 
 " Yes, if you will accompany me." 
 
 Madame de Lorris to Monsieur de Rias. 
 "Apparently you have not forgiven me for hav- 
 ing taken, the other evening, the part of your wife 
 against you, and you revenge yourself by an imperti- 
 nence. I wish to tell you that our interview im- 
 pressed me with sympathy for you. Your tone of 
 sincerity and of grief touched me. I began to per- 
 
l86 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 suade myself that I was wrong in accusing you, or at 
 least accusing you alone for the troubles in your 
 home. 
 
 " In short, it was not only in consequence of my 
 affection for Marie, it was also esteem for you which 
 induced me to offer you my humble services. It only 
 remains -for me to tender my excuses." 
 
 Monsieur de Rias to Madame de Lorris. 
 "Dear Madame: 
 
 " I am perfectly ashamed of my folly. I was, in 
 truth, borne down by the thought that you had gone 
 over to the enemy, and only cared for her interests. 
 You will deign to concede that your brusque proposi- 
 tion to send me out of France, was not of a nature 
 to modify this bitter impression. 
 
 " Your very kind letter delivers me over to you en- 
 tirely. I will joke no more, reason no more ; I will 
 listen and obey. I am ready to believe that in invit- 
 ing me to expatriate myself, you give me a signal 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 187 
 
 proof of your good intentions. You must own that 
 one could not give a greater proof of confidence and 
 respect. While awaiting your orders, I will pack my 
 trunks." 
 
 Madame de Lorns to M. de Rias. 
 
 " Still a- little bitterness — but submission ! that 
 is sufficient. I drop, sir, the light tone, which little 
 suits the seriousness of my thoughts and of yours. 
 You understand that I have received the confidence 
 of your wife. You have said grave words to her, 
 very offensive and, permit me to tell you, very impru- 
 dent. 
 
 "After such a scene, and in the state of mind of 
 both, do you not think that your intimacy with her 
 will be very difficult ? that life in common, continued 
 immediately after this, would only envenom your 
 mutual wounds, and render them irremediable ? 
 
 "Do you not think that it would be better to 
 give time for each to grow calm, to forget your 
 
1 88 -4 MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 grievances, and perhaps to remember your own 
 faults? I entreat you to consider^ all this with me. 
 Your wife returns to Paris in eight days. I have 
 heard you say that a sojourn in England was indis- 
 pensable for your historical researches, but that you 
 had never had the courage to go. Take courage 
 now, I beg of you. I have a profound belief that on 
 this step hinges the happiness of your life. During 
 your absence I will take care of your wife ; she shall 
 live at home, or with her mother, as you please; but 
 our lives shall be in common. 
 
 "She is worthy of you, I am sure; and I aflfirm it ; 
 but this is not enough, since you do not love her as 
 she is. -Well, I will do rtiy best to remodel her so 
 that you shall still find in her the woman of your 
 dreams — that is to say, a sailor's wife, I believe. 
 
 " Only, sir, if you wish to keep her such as I shall 
 render her back to you, you must, if you please, make 
 some slight reforms on your side. I have upon this 
 subject a few ideas which I shall mature with my 
 
A MARRIAGE IN RIOE LIFE. 
 
 189 
 
 great wisdom, and I shall have the honor of laying 
 them before you at the proper time and place." 
 
 Monsieur de Rias to Madame de Loms, 
 
 "Dear Madame: 
 
 " I will undergo the ordeal, 
 
 "I expect nothing from it for my happiness, but 
 everything for my justification. You cannot fail to 
 recognise that there are incurable follies, which dis- 
 courage and render hopeless the most patient affec- 
 tion. You will be more just to me, and I shall not 
 regret the sacrifice I make, if by it I shall have gained 
 the affection of a heart so delicate and generous as 
 your own. 
 
 " I leave in two days for London. 
 
 " I desire that Madame de Rias should live at 
 home. I entreat that Madame Fitz-Gerald will be 
 kind enough to give me, occasionally, news of my 
 children." 
 
I go 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN EitiH LIFE. 
 
 Madame Fitz- Gerald to Monsieur de Rias, Clarendon 
 Hotel, London. 
 
 "Paris, October. ' 
 " My Dear Lionel : 
 
 " I send you the new photographs of your 
 children, who are both very well. They sat remark- 
 ably well for children of their age. The photographer ' 
 was surprised at it. He was a Pole, whose name I 
 won't even attempt to write. He was recommended 
 to us by the duchess. Poor woman ! I am quite dis- . 
 consolate about the way in which she behaves with 
 her cousin Pontis. The duke is very blind. So much 
 the better for that matter. But to come back to your 
 dear children. They are two prodigies of intelligence 
 and beauty. They console me for many things. You 
 do not understand me, my friend. 
 
 " I hope your great work makes headway. We 
 shall be very happy* my daughter and I, to hear it 
 read. It will be delightful. We are going out very 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 191 
 
 little this winter. My daughter hardly ever leaves 
 her cousin de Lorris. They are like Paul and Vir- 
 ginia. They read Madame de Sevign^ together. We 
 don't write like that woman now-a-days, 
 
 " Adieu, my friend ! When are you coming back 
 to us ?" 
 
 Monsieur de Rias to Madame Fitz-Gerald, Paris. 
 
 " London. 
 
 " I beg pardon, dear madam ; we do still write like 
 Madame de Sevign^, and your charming letter is the 
 proof of it. 
 
 "Women write with a natural genius that art 
 cannot approach — not even that of the Polish photo- 
 grapher. I am not the less delighted with the pic- 
 tures, and very grateful for your attention. 
 
 "You wish to know the date of my return. 
 Madame de Lorris can give you a great deal better 
 information on that subject than I can. Am I here 
 
192 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 for two months, or ten years? Must I become a 
 British subject ? She only knows. 
 
 " I kiss with tender respect everybody's beautiful 
 hands. There are none equal to them in England." 
 
 Madame de Lorris to Monsieur de Rias, 
 
 "They tell me, sir, that you desire to know the 
 duration of your sojourn in the United Kingdom. 
 Nothing is more natural ; but I cannot, you under- 
 stand, tell you in advance. All must depend on the 
 success which I obtain in the work I have undertaken. 
 
 " Your amiable wife, thank Heaven ! lends herself 
 to the work with so much good-will that I can, from 
 to-day, limit your exile to a few months, three or 
 four. Let us say six — for time is necessary to con- 
 solidate matters." 
 
 The Saine to the Same. 
 
 " You would be wrong to suppose, sir, that we 
 pass our lives, your wife and I, in the austerity of a 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 193 
 
 cloister. To tell you the truth, we are two very lively 
 widows. 
 
 " We run through Paris like two countrywomen, 
 and we make strange discoveries ; for instance, the 
 Mus^e du Honore, the Mus^e de Cluny, the Mus^e 
 Carnavalet. We even get as far as the Mus^e of 
 Saint-Germain, in passing by the pavilion Henri IV., 
 where we breakfast divinely. We have often a very 
 obliging and very well-informed guide (and not at all 
 compromising, you may believe), who points out and 
 explains to us everything of interest. We brush up 
 our history, somewhat neglected, I must admit, geog- 
 raphy, rhetoric, and even our philosophy, as from a 
 grand illustrated book. We travel over time and 
 space as if we had wings. We go from the stone age 
 to Louis the XIV.'s century, from the lacustrine habi- 
 tations to the Hotel de Rambouillet, and we see the 
 difference. 
 
 " But we have too much to do to pass all our time 
 
 out of doors. Had we not better commence the edu- 
 13 
 
194 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 cation of our children ? A little of the alphabet, of 
 the piano, of sacred history, is enough to begin with ; 
 but later on, when they are more capable of learning, 
 and we of teaching, we shall do better. Then we have 
 our flowers ; it was your wife's idea to empty the hot- 
 houses at Fresnes to fill the house here with flowers 
 and leaves from top to bottom. We have to bring 
 them and send them back twice a week, so that the 
 plants will not wither. We place them here, and 
 move them there, and water them, and sponge them, 
 and it smells good ; but what smells better still, is our 
 linen closet. A nice place is a linen doset. You will 
 be wild over yours. You will fall on your knees 
 before the large wardrobes with glass doors, where 
 piles of linen, white as snow, are displayed; these 
 white piles are tied with blue ribbon, strewed with rose- 
 leaves, and perfumed with the healthy odor of , orris- 
 root, which makes us think of our powdered grand- 
 mothers. In brief, order and extreme cleanliness 
 reign in our house. I spare you the details; but 
 
A MARRIAGE IN EIQH LIFE. 
 
 I9S 
 
 have writteft you enough to prove to you that we take 
 pride in our house. 
 
 " If I should give you a complete idea of our daily 
 employments, I should have to speak of our works of 
 charity ; but where would be the merit if we spoke of 
 them ? 
 
 " The evenings we give to art, theatres, music and 
 reading combined. We read Saint-Simon, when we 
 return from Versailles; Madame de Sevign^ or 
 Madame de Lafayette, when we leave the hotel Car- 
 navalet ; a romance of George Sand, when we want to 
 dream ; and a leading article, when we want to go to 
 sleep. What ! you will say, no dresses, balls, re- 
 unions nor fashionable fStes ? 
 
 " Excuse me, sir, a little of all that, too. We are, 
 after all, women in high life, and will not cease to be 
 so, even to please you ; for you like housewives and 
 matrons, but they must have white hands, rosy nails 
 and well-fitting dresses. We go into society at cer- 
 tain times ; we know that that is a pleasure permitted 
 
196 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 to us, but we also know that permis^fble pleasures 
 only turn into vices when they are abused, not simply 
 used. Therefore, we do not abuse\them. 
 
 "We give to worldly recreations that part which 
 appertains to the existence of a well-bred Christian, 
 and nothing more. 
 
 " You will find it difficult to believe me, sir. Such 
 a complete metamorphosis in the habits and tastes of 
 your wife will seem improbable. 
 
 " It would be so, indeed, if it were not explained by 
 a secret reason which you do not suspect, that you 
 would never imagine, which I ought to be silent about, 
 
 and which is there is somebody whom your wife 
 
 ■ desires to please, to charm, to edify; to attach to her, 
 and that some one, I fancy, my dear cousin, is your 
 unworthy self." 
 
 Madame de Lords to Monsieter de Rias. 
 
 " March. 
 " The task is done, sir. In a few weeks, you may 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 197 
 
 return to Paris. You have gone through the proba- 
 tion to the end, with a resignation and a loyalty 
 which touches me. I appreciate your confidence. I 
 have proved worthy of it by doing my best. Aided 
 by the counsels of my beloved brother, to whom I 
 owe all that I am, all that you esteem in me, I have 
 tried to open for you a happier life. Your wife, in all 
 that concerns her, has seconded 'my efforts with all 
 her heart and all her mind. It only remains for me 
 to ask you to do as she has done. This is not the 
 least delicate part of my task, and in order to accom- 
 plish it, I must resort to a daring frankness, for 
 which I crave your indulgence. 
 
 " A long time, sir, before you honored me with 
 your confidence, your marriage was for me the object 
 of much deep and sober reflection. The sad turn 
 which it had taken, astonished and troubled me to the 
 last degree. It confounded my good sense, discon- 
 certed my logic and alarmed my piety. I knew your 
 wife as I knew myselfi I thought that I understood 
 
ig8 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 you well also, and it was rather difficult to fancy that 
 the union of two beings so happily dowered and so per- 
 fectly disposed for each other's happiness and welfare, 
 should fatally turn toward misunderstanding, discord, 
 and a disordered household. If marriag'e, even con- 
 tracted in these rare conditions of harmony, brought 
 only disaster, it was time to renounce it ; the institu- 
 tion was condemned. This was what caused me great 
 pain to admit. Happily, by racking my poor head 
 for ideas, I finished by discovering that instead of 
 attributing the evils to marriage, it was perhaps more 
 just to ascribe them to the married people, and 
 specially, I confess, to the husband. 
 
 " I know that women are too frivolously brought 
 up in France; that their education is superficial and 
 exclusively worldly ; that it but ill-prepares them for 
 the serious duties of wifehood : all this I grant you ; 
 but despite all this, I dare to affirm, as a general prin- 
 ciple, that there is not one of them who is not morally 
 superior to the man she marries, and far more capable 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 199 
 
 than he of all the domestic virtues ; and I will tell 
 you why : it is because women all have, in a higher 
 degree than you think, the main virtue of marriage, 
 which is the spirit of sacrifice ; but it is difficult for 
 them to renounce all when their husbands renounce 
 nothing ; and that is nevertheless what they are asked 
 to do. 
 
 " You have, perhaps, fancied yourself, sir, a model 
 husband, and in many respects you have been one ; I 
 give you that praise ; but you have, notwithstanding, 
 a point of resemblance to the mass of husbands, which 
 is, that you make for yourself a very clear idea of the 
 duties which marriage imposes upon the woman, and 
 a very vague one of those which it demands of the 
 man. Marriage is not a monologue ; it is a piece for 
 two persons. Now, you have studied only one char- 
 acter, and it was not your own. You are too sincere, 
 sir, not to admit that your personal conception of 
 marriage was simply this : to add to the habitual 
 comforts of your life, an agreeable accessory iu the 
 
200 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 person of a good and pleasing woman, who should 
 ornament your house, who should perpetuate your 
 name, and who, in short, should bring you, without 
 troubling you too much, a supplement of comfort and 
 respectability. You have busied yourself greatly, like 
 all of your sex, in endeavoriug to find in Paris, in the 
 country or in China, that marvellous woman who 
 would make every sacrifice and exact none. You 
 have not found her, and no one will find her, because 
 that rare bird of which you all dream — the domestic 
 woman — necessitates the existence of a bird still rarer 
 — the domestic man. 
 
 "What, sir, is a 'domestic man?' 
 
 " A domestic man is not one who sits at the feet of 
 his wife, and embroiders, who makes out the bills of 
 fare, who writes the invitations, who trims the lamps 
 and regulates the clocks. We call a domestic man the 
 man with whom we read the same book, with whom 
 we see the same play, with whom we admire the same 
 picture, or the same landscape, the man who gives us 
 
A MABRIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. 201 
 
 an intellectual and moral life by the side of his own, 
 or rather in his own, who associates us with him, if 
 not in all his occupations, at least in all his leisure, 
 and who has in consequence no taste, no pleasure, no 
 interest of heart or mind, that he will not, or that he 
 cannot permit us to spare ; the man who in marrying 
 freely pours all his worldly goods into the bosom of 
 his family and home, without any selfish reservation. 
 Be such a man, sir, and you will keep your wife at 
 home by being there\ yourself. Your hearth will not 
 only be a home, it will be a domestic altar. It will 
 follow you everywhere, be with you in all places. It 
 will be in her heart and in yours, whenever you inter- 
 mingle your affectionate thoughts, impressions, faith 
 and charity. 
 
 ," Marriage is an enterprize which promises inesti- 
 mable benefits ; but there is a list of indispensable in- 
 structions for it. Have you read it ? 
 
 "I fear not, because you would have seen there 
 that a great part of a woman's education must be 
 
202 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 given her by her husband ; that it is for him to model 
 her to his will, to form her according to his desires, 
 to elevate to the dignity of his sentiments the young 
 heart and mind which asks only to please him ; you 
 would then have learned that it is at once wise and 
 charming, to add to the bonds which unite a wife to 
 her husband, those which bind pupil to master, in- 
 structor, guide and friend. 
 
 " I foresee the objection; the young heart and mind 
 fled from your care. They opposed to you their 
 futile education, their taste for dissipation, for vanity, 
 for coquetting ; in short, the incurable frivolity of 
 woman. I do not believe, sir, in the incurable frivolity 
 of woman ; nor do you, because you see, as I do, 
 every day, that frivolity transforms itself under the 
 empire of passion, pity, faith, misfortune, into austere 
 devotion and rigid abnegation. 
 
 " No, own it. You have not tried. You hoped 
 that the child you had married would suddenly 
 become, by the mere virtue of the sacrament, a per- 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 203 
 
 feet wife. No, sir. That was a miracle which you 
 would certainly have had to perforin yourself. 
 
 " I have finished my sermon. 
 
 "Excuse me. Meditate upon the thoughts ex- 
 pressed in the text, during the last days of your 
 exile, and you cannot fail to give a finishing touch 
 to the work which my feeble hands have only 
 begun." 
 
 Madame de Rias to M. de Rias. 
 
 " April. 
 " You deemed it necessary, my dear Lionel, to give 
 to our existence an interval of separation and of 
 silence. My resignation lasted until the last moment ; 
 but I cannot allow you to return without sending you 
 a kind word from my heart. I hope that, hereafter, 
 you will be better satisfied with your affectionate and 
 
 faithful wife. 
 
 Marie. 
 
 "P. s. ^Unless you countermand it, I intend to 
 
204 ^ MAERUOE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 take up my abode at Fresnes about the 1st of May. 
 I will await you there. I shall still have the com- 
 pany of my dear Louise, who is going to reside at 
 the Pavilion with her brother." 
 
A MABBIA6E IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 205 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 TV /r DE RIAS "was too honest a man, and he had 
 too truly suffered froni the trouble in his home 
 and the cruel error of his life, not to view with tender 
 satisfaction the hope of better days which the general 
 tone of this correspondence seemed to offer to him. 
 He was very far indeed from assenting to the theories 
 of Madame de Lorris, which seemed to him strongly 
 tinged with partiality. for her sex; but, after all, what- 
 ever had been the original cause of the demoralization 
 of his wife, it was sufficient for him that she recog- 
 nised it and seemed disposed to repair it. With the 
 generosity of his nature he put aside all considera- 
 tions of his self-love, and, without troubling himself 
 with the adjustment of a balance of blame and respon- 
 
2o6 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 sibilities, resolved to accept, unreservedly and with 
 a glad heart, this newly-ofifered happiness. He saw in 
 the installation of his wife at the Chateau de Fresnes, 
 in anticipation of his return, a delicate intention. It 
 was there that they had seen each other the first 
 time ; there that they had loved ; there that they had 
 been wedded ; it was there that they should recom- 
 mence their life in common ; there that they should 
 recommence their union from the beginning, as it 
 were. In this thought there was something very ten- 
 der and touching, and M. de Rias, on his side, prided 
 himself in responding to it with the ardor and sponta- 
 niety of a newly-married man. 
 
 He wished to give himself the pleasure of surpris- 
 ing his wife, and advanced by two or three days the 
 date which he had already announced for his return. 
 He passed half an hour at his home in Paris, admir- 
 ing its good order; then, about seven o'clock in the 
 evening, set out for Fresnes, and two hours later 
 descended from the train at the station nearest to the 
 
A MABRIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 207 
 
 chateau. Not finding there a carriage to convey him, 
 he gayly set out on foot, leaving his baggage at the 
 depot. 
 
 It was a beautiful evening in spring-time, softly 
 lighted by the young moon and millions of stars. 
 Lionel traversed, with emotion, that route so often 
 gone over by him with his young betrothed, in the 
 days of his love. He recalled at each step some dear 
 remembrance which again awoke new hopes in his 
 heart. 
 
 With secrecy he entered the park by one of the 
 forest avenues, and soon perceived, through the foli- 
 age, the lights of the chateau. His heart beat vio- 
 lently as he approached the windows of the family 
 sitting-room. His curiosity prompted him to look in 
 before entering. His dream was to find his wife alone 
 for this first interview ; but Madame de Rias was not 
 alone, in which there was nothing extraordinary or 
 shocking, since she was not expecting him. 
 
 She was in very good and honest company. She 
 
2o8 A MARRIAGE IN SIGH LIFE. 
 
 had around her, her mother, her two children, her 
 cousin Madame de Lorris, M. de Kevern, and that was 
 all. At one end of the large parlor, Madame Fitz- 
 Gerald and Madame de Lorris were playing upon the 
 piano a sonata arranged for four hands. Near the 
 fire-place, before a table, Madame de Rias was grace- 
 fully kneeling on a low chair, her hand resting on the 
 blonde head of her son, whilst her daughter was 
 seated, two steps from her, upon the knees of M. de 
 Kevern. They were examining a large book of en- 
 gravings, spread out beneath the lamp, upon which 
 M. de Kevern appeared to be giving some very in- 
 teresting explanations, if one might judge by the pro- 
 foundly attentive mien of the two children and their 
 mother. From time to time the pretty bending heads 
 were raised to address to the explainer a question or 
 a smile. 
 
 This scene presented nothing of the character of 
 worldly dissipation; nevertheless, M. de Rias, upon 
 witnessing it, experienced a lively sense of displeasure. 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 209 
 
 There was in this little family circle, and particularly 
 in the group of which Madame de Rias was a 
 member, an air of happy and placid intimacy which it 
 would seem really awkward to interrupt by a surprise, 
 however agreeable it might be. 
 
 M. de Rias retired from the window with a gesture 
 of ill-humor, walked away a few steps, and then 
 returned. The more he contemplated the family 
 scene before him, the more there grew upon him a 
 feeling deeper and more serious than mere contrariety, 
 and his features clouded, and his brow contracted 
 almost dolorously, when he saw his two children — for 
 whom the hour of retiring had arrived — leap to the 
 neck of M. de Kevern and cover him with kisses. 
 
 Tea TVas brought in at that moment. Lionel pre- 
 sumed that Madame de Lorris and her brother would 
 soon take their leave, and resolved to await their 
 departure before presenting himself to his wife. He 
 ensconced himself in a leafy alley at the edge of the 
 
 park, and there walked to and fro, lost in thought. 
 14 
 
210 -4 MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 After a few minutes, he heard the opening of the 
 glass, door fronting upon the park, and saw coming 
 forth, first Madame de Lorris, then his wife, leaning 
 on the arm of M. de Kevern. From the direction of 
 their walk, he comprehended that Madame de Lorris 
 and her brother, attracted by the beauty of the night, 
 were returning on foot to the Pavilion, and that Ma- 
 dame de Rias, according to appearances, was accom- 
 panying them to the park gate. He let them depart, 
 and followed slowly in the direction they had taken, 
 in order that he might meet his wife on her return to 
 the chateau. Chance obtained for him at length for 
 this first interview the tUe-dirtUe he had so ardently 
 desired, but which he felt, although without know- 
 ing why, promised to be for him a very troubled 
 pleasure. 
 
 He saw Madame de Rias coming at some distance, 
 before she saw him. He was half hidden by the 
 fringe of shade at the edge of the forest overhanging 
 the avenue, while his wife walked in the light, in the 
 
A MARRIA OE IN HIGH LIFE. 2 1 1 
 
 middle of the road. She seemed deeply absorbed in 
 meditation, and advanced with slow steps, her arms 
 crossed and her head sunk upon her breast. At a 
 little distance from where Lionel had stopped, there 
 was a rustic bench ; she seated herself upon it, as if 
 thoroughly overcome, bowed her head in her hands, 
 and he heard her weeping bitterly. 
 
 At sight of this strange scene, the first impression 
 of M. de Rias was an acute and icy grief, which 
 seemed to penetrate to his bones. He was not loved, 
 and the apprehension of his return was the cause of 
 these mysterious tears. Such was the poignant 
 thought which entered his mind; but it was only 
 as a flash, which was quickly obscured. The supply 
 of confidence which he had brought with him could 
 not be dissipated thus in a single minute. For six 
 months they had sustained him with the thought that 
 his wife had entirely returned to him ; that she only^ 
 thought to please him ; that she consecrated to this 
 object all her sacrifices, all her abneg'ations, all the 
 
212 ^ MARRIA GE IN EIGH LIFE. 
 
 reforms of her life. She had herself confirmed this 
 tender disposition in her note, at the last hour. He 
 persuaded himself, then, that the doubt which had 
 suddenly invaded his mind, was an injustice to her 
 and a guilty ingratitude. Madame de Rias, like, all 
 women, shed tears easily ; this ebullition was no doubt 
 caused by melancholy nervousness ; perhaps a last 
 tribute of regret for the pleasures she was sacrificing 
 to him — a regret which attested all the more the 
 merit of her devotion. 
 
 To rid himself of these new chimeras, he stepped 
 quickly out of the shade into the middle of the road 
 and advanced toward the rustic bench, walking in the 
 light, that his approach might not alarm her. At the 
 noise of his footsteps, Madame de Rias suddenly 
 arose; he made an amicable sign toward her with his 
 hands, and she heard him address her, in a pleasant 
 tone : 
 
 " You niust think me quite a child, but I wanted to 
 surprise you." 
 
A MARRIAGE IN EIGH LIFE. 
 
 213 
 
 She quickly dried her eyes and came to meet 
 him. He seized her hands, and felt that she 
 shivered. 
 
 " Heavens! my dear," he said; "how thoughtless 
 and awkward I am ! I have frightened you." 
 
 " A little," she murmured ; " I was so far from ex- 
 pecting you — see, I am all trembling !" 
 
 " You do not embrace me, Marie ?" 
 
 "Pardon me!" 
 
 And she presented her forehead to him. 
 
 After this cold ceremony, a little different from the 
 effusion which M. de Rias had premeditated, they 
 took their way toward the chateau, walking side by 
 side. A pause of constrained silence ensued, and 
 then she suddenly began to interrogate him, with a 
 sort of feverish animation, upon the incidents of his 
 voyage : crossing the channel ; the hours of trains 
 and packet-boats ; then she passed, in the same tone, 
 to her children, telling him of their progress, and re- 
 lating to him incidents marking their intelligence. 
 
214 -^ maRria ge in eige life. 
 
 They had been put to bed only a moment ago, and 
 were not yet asleep, she hoped. 
 
 As soon as they entered the chateau, she took him 
 to the children's room. They were sound asleep and 
 Lionel did not wish to awaken them. • He contented 
 himself with casting upon their sweet faces a look of 
 mingled sadness and agitation. 
 
 On descending to the parlor, they were met by Ma- 
 dame Fitz- Gerald, who had been hastily apprised of 
 her son-in-law's arrival, and came, in a mob-cap, to 
 welcome him. She uttered several ejaculations of 
 surprise, embraced him, excused the impropriety of 
 her dress and discreetly retired. 
 
 Left alone with his wife, M. de Rias was not slow 
 to perceive that while she responded to his questions 
 and affectionate compliments with an appearance of 
 enjoyment, she was singularly absent-minded and pre- 
 occupied. Her gayety, visibly forced, was momenta- 
 rily extinguished in an icy silence. In proportion as 
 the evening advanced, he surprised in her eyes an in- 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 215 
 
 creasing, expression of uneasiness, anxiety, and even 
 of anguish. Himself more and more oppressed and 
 chilled, he interrupted the interview. 
 
 " My room is prepared — is it not, my dear ?" said 
 he, rising abruptly. 
 
 " Yes, oh ! yes certainly." 
 
 Then she sighed, as if in spite of herself. 
 
 She stood up before him, smiling and embarrassed. 
 He looked in her eyes, and she blushed. " Good- 
 night," he murmured, and, feebly pressing her hand, 
 left the room. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fatigue of a day of travel and 
 emotion, M. de Rias, did not even attempt to take re- 
 pose. During long hours he paced his chamber to 
 and fro, in a state of mind worthy of pity. Disen- 
 chantment the most complete and bitter, had suc- 
 ceeded to the illusions which his heart and his ima- 
 gination had so long cradled. ■ The lightning-like 
 impression which had struck him in the instant when 
 he saw his wife weeping in the park, was now decided, 
 
2 16 ■&- MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 and he doubted no longer that impression was just 
 and correct. His return was for her a sadness, a 
 terror, a despair. From that moment the truth un- 
 rolled itself before his eyes with a pitiless array of evi- 
 dence, and inundated him with its cruel light. He 
 went over, in his feverish thought, all the incidents, 
 all the details, of this painful evening ; he recalled 
 various features in his correspondence with Madame 
 de Lorris ; he linked together all the points of evi- 
 dence and interpreted them with a frightful lucidity, i 
 He did not believe that Madame de Lorris had inten- 
 tionally abused and misled him, and that the conver- 
 sation of his wife and the transformation in her tastes 
 and habits were untruthful inventions. No ; Madame 
 de Lorris did not deceive him, but, unwittingly, had 
 told him only a part of the truth. It was true, in 
 effect, that Madame de Rias had corrected herself of 
 her worldly follies ; that she had given to her life a 
 tone more serious, more intelligent and more worthy j 
 that she had ardently applied herself to the elevation 
 
A MARRIAOE IN EIGH LIFE. 2 17 
 
 1 
 
 of her heart and of her mind. It was still farther true/ 
 that she had done all that to obey and please the man 
 whom she loved, but the man whom she loved was 
 not him, it was M. de Kevern. That was what Ma- 
 dame de Lprris had not told him, and that of which 
 she was probably ignorant. He knew her honesty, 
 h.er candor, her idolatrous confidence in her brother. 
 She had associated him in her work, without suspect- 
 ing the equivocal part that he might be tempted to 
 take in it. 
 
 Perhaps, in the agitations of this grievous night, M. 
 de Rias did not spare himself some secret reproaches 
 and tardy lessons, for, in point of fact, all that which 
 this man had undertaken and accomplished he him- 
 self should have done ; like him, he had been loved, 
 had been all powerful over that heart which had 
 shown' itself so capable of devotion and of sacrifice ; 
 but he had neglected to use his power, and now 
 another usurped it. 
 
 It was not the first time that M. de Rias, in the 
 
2 1 8 -4 MARRIA GE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 course of his life, had encountered one of those wise 
 sermonizers who constitute themselves the mentors 
 of this erring world, and who most habitually apply 
 themselves to saving, where they would mo* effectu- 
 ally ruin. He knew that most of those austere 
 counsellors are dangerous hypocrites, and those who 
 are not hypocrites are often the most dangerous. 
 
 To which of those two categories did M. de Kevern 
 belong? That was of little importance to Lionel. 
 That which appeared very certain to him was that M. 
 de Kevern had taken his place, at his fireside, in the 
 heart of his wife and almost in the love of his children. 
 That was enough for him to swear a mortal hate, and 
 promise himself that he would make this man expiate 
 all that he had been caused to suffer. In this thought, 
 he saw a glimpse of hope, a solution of the difficulty 
 entangling him, and at length, when day was break- 
 ing, he sought some hours of sleep. 
 
A MARRIAGE IK HIOE LIFE. 
 
 219 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 T TPON awaking, M. de Rias arranged his course 
 of conduct. Before giving vent to the senti- 
 ments which animated him, it would be necessary 
 for him to have proofs, stronger and more unexcep- 
 tionable than mere suspicions, and these he could 
 assuredly not obtain by putting upon their guard 
 those whom he suspected. He resolved then to im- 
 part to them a sense of security by himself affecting 
 perfect freedom and confidence. His manners, a little 
 cold and reserved, accorded well with this role, and 
 would spare him those efforts at dissimulation which 
 would be too painful. 
 
 During the first day he saw with bitterness more 
 than one circumstance to confirm his apprehensions-. 
 
220 -A. MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 That most painful to him was the unconscious testi- 
 mony of his children. In his interviews with them, 
 when he questioned them respecting their occupa- 
 
 pations and pleasures during the time of his absence, 
 
 I 
 the name of M. de Kevern was every instant on their 
 
 lips — innocent accusations ! He was mingled in all 
 their thoughts — in all their recitals, in their studies 
 and their plays, in each detail of their daily life ; Ma-, 
 dame de Rias, pn the contrary, pronounced his name 
 very rarely and always with an embarrassed reserve. 
 To hear her, one might have been led to believe 
 that M. de Kevern was a stranger to her, admitted 
 but at rare intervals to her home ; while in the 
 mouths of her children he was clearly the guest 
 and intimate companion of the family 
 
 Lionel went that day to pay his respects to Madame 
 de Lorris and to express his obligations to M. de 
 Kevern. The latter received him with every appear- 
 ance of calm cordiality. But in the countenance and 
 the manner of Madame de Lorris, on the contrary. 
 
A MABRIAQE IN HIGH LIFE. 221 
 
 were novel and accusing symptoms. From the char- 
 acter of her reports to M. de Rias, in the amicable 
 correspondence exchanged between them, after the 
 success of the experiment which she had suggested 
 to him, it would have seemed but natural that this 
 amiable woman should have welcomed him with 
 frankness and warmth. Nevertheless, he found her 
 singularly timid and constrained. There was trouble 
 in her eyes and a shade of sadness on her brow. He 
 thought he understood that she also had suppressed 
 the truth, and that she was seriously disquieted in her 
 heart and conscience. 
 
 During the three or four days which followed, the 
 families of the chateau and of the Pavilion contin- 
 ued, at the instance of Lionel himself, to live in close 
 intimacy, breakfasting and dining together at the 
 home of either; but, in spite of the ease and good 
 gra,ce that M. de Rias brought into their daily rela- 
 tions, there reigned a manifest air of trouble, uneasi- 
 ness and secret anxiety. M. de Kevern, under his 
 
222 -A. MARRIAGE IN HIOH LIFE. 
 
 habitual calm, was evidently full of care. Madame de 
 Rias, sometimes agitated, sometimes dejected, always 
 pale and weary, appeared to succumb under the 
 weight of dissimulation, too heavy for her strength 
 and perhaps her loyalty. She manifested before her 
 hiisband a compromising appearance of being ill at 
 ease ; she scrupulously avoided all i&te-dr-tites with M. 
 de Kevern, but her eyes sought him incessantly and 
 betrayed her. 
 
 As to Madame de Lorris, more sad from day to 
 day she watched Lionel with furtive attention, as if 
 she doubted what he might clearly see. She had 
 with her cousin frequent private interviews, out of 
 which they both came with eyes reddened by tears. 
 Was she then a confidant ? Was she an accomplice ? 
 Did she push her blind affection for her brother to 
 the point of protecting his amours ? Did she, on the 
 contrary, force herself to recall Madame de Rias to 
 reason and duty ? 
 
 H owever it might be, it was evident that for every- 
 
A MARRIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 223 
 
 body, except doubtless the excellent Madame Fitz- 
 Gerald, M. de Rias did wrong in leaving England, and 
 that he had come back to play in his own house and 
 in the bosom of his family, the part of an intruder and 
 a skeleton at the board. 
 
 Lionel waited with sombre impatience the moment 
 to violently end this insupportable situation, when 
 chance offered him the opportunity. Troubled, since 
 his return, with too easily accounted for insomnia, he 
 was accustomed to hold vigil in his room, even after 
 extinguishing his light. In the fifth night which 
 followed his arrival at the chateau, toward one o'clock 
 in the morning, he heard the noise of a door being 
 opened with precaution, on the side of the house look- 
 ing in the direction of the park. An instant after he 
 saw a form, white and elegant, pass under his window, 
 glide with the step of a phantom across the lawn, and 
 disappear in the deep shade of a forest avenue. A 
 s6rt of bitter satisfaction suddenly contracted the lips 
 of M. de Rias. He seized and precipitately opened a 
 
224 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN ffIGS LIFE. 
 
 mahogany box containing a pair of pistols, but, after 
 a second's reflection violently threw the arms upon 
 the sofa, left his chamber and descended into the 
 park. 
 
 The direction which Madame de Rias had taken, 
 was for him an almost certain indication. The ob- 
 lique avenue on which she had entered led to one of 
 the extremities of the park adjoining the woods of M. 
 de Kevern. A bridle-path, but little frequented even 
 during the daytime, formed on this side the limit 
 between the two properties ; it was doubtless towards 
 this that Madame de Rias wended her way, if her noc- 
 turnal excursion had for its object that which Lionel 
 supposed. Instead of following her footsteps, he 
 took a little hunting-path, which crossed the thickets 
 and shortened the distance. He relied upon his in- 
 stincts and experience as a hunter to enable him to 
 follow its windings through the darkness, but in so 
 doing he fotind much greater difficulty than he had 
 anticipated. His agitation of mind and. the haste of 
 
A MARRIAGE IN EIOH LIFE. 225 
 
 his pursuit had the effect, more than once, of leading 
 him astray. 
 
 Whilst slowly and painfully pushing his way 
 through the brushwood, he could not help having 
 some strange memories. He recalled a loving walk 
 which he had taken one day — the day before his mar- 
 riage — in these same woods and these same paths with 
 Mademoiselle Fitz-Gerald. The contrast between the 
 feelings which had charmed his heart on that day 
 and those which tortured him at this moment, in- 
 flicted upon him a heart-breaking grief. 
 
 Suddenly he --topped. The noise of voices, and as 
 it seemed to him of sighs, struck his ear, in the midst 
 of the silence of the woods and the night. He bent 
 forward, parted the leaves, and, like an Indian stealing 
 upon his enemy,.glided forward with noiseless tread. 
 He was on the border of the bridle-path, of which the 
 relative clearness enabled him to perceive two sha- 
 dows, walking closely side by side. He recognised, 
 without any possibility of doubt, Madame de Rias 
 15 
 
226 ^ MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 and M. de Kevern. He held his breath ; he would 
 have wished to suspend the beatings of his heart that 
 he might listen better, but their interview was without 
 doubt drawing to a close ; they exchanged words but 
 rarely and then in a stifled voice. Madame de Rias 
 frequently put her handkerchief to her face. Sud- 
 denly M. de Kevern stopped, looked at her in silence, 
 and, drawing her to him, pressed her passionately to 
 his heart. 
 
 / A cloud of blood passed over the eyes 6f Lionel, 
 and for some seconds seemed to blind him. When 
 he could shake off his vertigo and see before him, M. 
 de Kevern and Madame de Rias had disappeared. 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 227 
 
 T 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 HE next day, in the morning, M. de Rias's valet 
 placed in M. de Kevern's own hands this note : 
 
 " I was, last night, in the park. I shall be obliged 
 to you if you will, to-morrow morning at nine o'clock, 
 be ready to receive two of my friends. 
 
 Lionel de Rias." 
 
 Immediately after having sent this message, Lionel 
 set out for Paris. As soon as he arrived, he sought 
 out one of his relatives who had an especial liking for 
 affairs of honor. He told him that since his return 
 from England he had several discussions with his 
 country neighbor, M. de Kevern, in relation to their 
 boundaty rights and their reciprocal hunting privi- 
 
228 ^ MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 leges ; that these discussions had ended in a serious 
 quarrel, which could only be settled by an appeal to 
 arms, and begged him to be one of his seconds. M. 
 d'Eblis hoped that so trifling a disagreement could be 
 amicably adjusted. He promised, however, to take 
 the first train the next day for Fresnes, so that he 
 should be there at eight o'clock in the morning. 
 
 M. de Rias then proceeded to the house of the 
 Duke d'Estr^ny ; but the duke was at the club. He 
 went there and found him. As he entered one of the 
 parlors, where a group of young men surrounded a 
 whist-table, one of the players chanced to pronounce 
 the name of M. de Kevern. The sudden and marked 
 silence which followed upon their perceiving M. de 
 Rias, was a bitter proof to him that his conjugal mis- 
 fortune was public talk. The Duke d'Estr^ny re- 
 ceived Lionel's communication with a grave air ; 
 listened without comment to the scarcely probable 
 explanation which he gave of the origin of the quarrel, 
 and placed himself, like M. d'Eblis, at his disposition. 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 229 
 
 On returning to Fresnes about ten o'clock that 
 evening, M. de Rias found Madame Fitz-Gerald in 
 the drawing-room, alone and very sad ; she told him 
 that her daughter had suffered much all the day, and 
 that she had felt so unwell after dinner that she had 
 gone to bed, begging them to let her take a little 
 repose. Lionel, after several questions of affected 
 solicitude, retired under the pretext of fatigue. 
 
 Toward midnight, whilst seated before his writing- 
 table, writing some letters, the door of his room was 
 softly opened. He turned — Madame de Rias was 
 before him, pale as a corpse. He fixed on her a look 
 of glacial severity. 
 
 " What do you want ?" said he. 
 
 " I wish to speak to you," murmured she, in a voice 
 stifled and scarcely distinct. 
 
 "Speak!" 
 
 " Lionel, I am already half mad," replied she, with 
 a heart-breaking expression of grief; "I pray you 
 spare me ! Oh ! spare me !" 
 
230 ^ MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE, 
 
 " What is it you wish to say to me, my dear ?" 
 
 " Louise ha:s just come she has had suspicions 
 
 since morning she seized a moment when her bro- 
 ther was absent she saw your lette r w e know 
 
 all!" 
 
 " And what do you know ?" 
 
 " I know that to-morrow you are going to fight 
 with M. de Kevern !" 
 
 M. de Rias rose and stood before her, 
 
 "Listen, Marie," said he, coldly; "I much regret 
 that this affair has come to your knowledge ; but you 
 may believe me it was not my fault. Now, why did 
 you come here ? You only waste your time. You 
 ought to understand that your denials and youf sup- 
 plieations would be at such a moment completely use- 
 less. Your reception and countenance, since my re- 
 turn, leave me in little doubt as to the character of 
 your relations with' M. de Kevern, Last night I 
 followed you ; I saw what passed between you. I am 
 then edified, and nothing in the world, you may be 
 
A MARRIA GE IN HIGH LIFE. 231 
 
 certain, will hinder me from saving my honor, as 
 much as still remains to be saved. Go ! leave me." 
 
 She fell upon a chair, and, wringing her hands, with 
 eyes fixed on vacancy, 
 
 " My God !" she cried ; " Oh ! my God 1" 
 
 " I pray you, leave me," said M. de Rias, harshly. 
 
 She arose and took a few steps toward the door ; 
 then, returning to him suddenly and throwing herself 
 on her knees upon the floor : 
 
 "Ah! well!" she cried; "kill me! that would 
 
 be just ! but me alone ! me alone!" 
 
 And her voice was lost in a burst of sobs. 
 
 " How is it that you do not feel," Lionel replied, 
 " that each one of your words is a new offence ?" 
 
 'i No, Oh ! no, I swear to you ! It is because 
 
 you do not understand all. Let me tell you all, 
 
 I implore you Ah! you will see that I tell you 
 
 the truth ! Yes, I am guilty ^yes, I love M. 
 
 de Kevern yes and if he had wished 1 
 
 believe it is possible my love, my feebleness, 
 
232 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 would have refused him nothing ! You see that I 
 
 do not spare myself; but he did not wish it 
 
 Oh ! God, he did not wish it ! It is he who pre- 
 served me — — and you would kill him ! ^but it is 
 
 impossible ! such an action would be odious, 
 
 abominable ! 1 pray you, 1 pray you, do 
 
 not commit it !" 
 
 " I see that you indeed love him," said M. de Rias. 
 
 " Yes, I love him," continued she, still kneeling 
 and crouching down before him. " I love him because 
 he has saved me, not only from himself, but from 
 
 others ! Let me tell you ! several months ago, 
 
 at Trouville, after that scene deserved perhaps ■■ 
 
 but so hard and wounding neglected, desperate 
 
 and corrupted at heart 1 wished to rush upon my 
 
 ruin ; there was there a man who pursued me with 
 
 his love whom I believed I loved— — ^who, you 
 
 may suspect. Well, shall I tell you ? I waited for 
 
 that man, on the night following your departure : 
 
 it was a word, one single word from M. de Kevern, 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 233 
 
 which brought me back to reason, to duty, to honor 
 
 • — — and you would kill him ! But — since then — I 
 
 have loved him and, perhaps, my love has been 
 
 shared it may be so ! but that love has re- 
 mained in our hearts it has never been criminal 
 
 never ! You saw us last night alas ! 
 
 you have seen me in his arms and I feel it — 
 
 well that you must believe and will still be- 
 lieve, O ! my God ! that you have a mortal offence 
 
 to avenge ! nevertheless, it is not so it is not 
 
 so ! That moment of abandonment, of weakness 
 
 was the first it was the last between us it was 
 
 the farewell of a friend of a brother, whom I should 
 
 see no more. Nothing more, in truth ! Since your re- 
 turn, we have been^he, his sister and I — in a cruel 
 combat. She wished that he should leave ; he hesi- 
 tated, fearing that his sudden departure might awaken 
 
 your suspicions 1 — I did not wish it and then 
 
 — for I have still a little honesty — the existence daily 
 between you, and him-^the duplicity — the continual 
 
234 
 
 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 deceit — rent my heart asunder. I made my sacrifice 
 suddenly last night. I wished to see him immedi- 
 ately, to make an end of it at once — and then I went 
 where you followed me. He was going to leave to- 
 day— and I — — was going to tell you a part of that 
 which I now tell you ! Then, perhaps, you might have 
 believed me — —whilst now you do not believe me !" 
 
 " No !" said M. de Rias, curtly. 
 
 A silence ensued, broken only by the convulsive 
 sobbings, of the young wife. 
 
 " Besides," suddenly replied Lionel, " if you are 
 truly strangers — so far as concerns criminality — is 
 there not in that which you have avowed enough; 
 to justify a resentment emd implacable hate of a 
 man ?'' 
 
 " Yes, doubtless ^yes, and yet, if you were 
 
 certain, Lionel, very certain, that there is nothing 
 more than that which I have avowed to you,^^ — if 
 you were very sure that your pride only is wounded, 
 not your honor,— — that there is nothing irreparable, 
 
A MABRIA6E IN HIOH LIFE. 235 
 
 between us, truly nothing-^-^ — would you not have 
 
 pity — if not for me at least for his poor sister — so 
 
 innocent, so devoted and so unhappy ! Would you 
 
 kill her, or drive her mad ? my poor Louise, 
 
 who loved me so much, and this is her recompense ! 
 Oh ! if you would have that goodness, Lionel, if you 
 would be generous enough to conquer this outburst 
 
 of your offended pride very justly offended, alas ! 
 
 ^Ah ! Lionel, 1 feel it- 1 swear it to you 
 
 ^that there is still happiness in store for us ! 
 
 Oh ! I should be so grateful that you may com- 
 mand anything of my heart ! It has once been all 
 
 yours it would return to you. It is not the 
 
 moment, 1 know that well — —to speak of your 
 
 faults for, after all, you have had some, perhaps ; 
 
 ^but I will obliterate them from my memory 1 
 
 will be so happy so happy to forget them and 
 
 to make you forget mine ! so happy ! Ah ! I 
 
 beg you 1 pray you Oh ! I would love you as 
 
 much as God!" — - 
 
236 ^ MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 She was silent ; stifled by her tears, which flowed 
 as profusely as her prayers. 
 
 M. de Rias was visibly moved and actuated by a 
 vivid emotion. For a few moments he paced to and, 
 ffo. His features were frightfully distorted, and the 
 convulsive trembling of his lips testified to the terri- 
 ble struggle which he underwent. Suddenly he ap- 
 proached his writing-desk, took a sheet of paj)er and 
 wrote a few words~ thereon. Then approaching his 
 wife — exhausted, panting and trembling at his feet — 
 he gave her the note which he had just written. 
 
 " You can read it," he said to her ; " it is for Ma- 
 dame de Lorris." 
 
 She pushed back with one hand her dishevelled 
 hair, which covered her face, and read the note — 
 containing these lines only : 
 
 " Be so good as to say to your brother, madame^ ' 
 that he need expect nobody from me to-morrow." 
 
 The young wife uttered a cry, suddenly sprang up 
 and seized the hands of her husband as if to draw 
 
A MAREIAOE IN HIOH LIFE. 
 
 237 
 
 him to her, in the exaltation of her gratitude and joy ; 
 then, lowering her eyes, bathed with tears, 
 
 " I dare not," she murmured. 
 
 " No, nothing now nothing 1 beg of 
 
 you," said M. de Rias, in a voice profoundly moved, 
 " Go, Marie, go ! rest in peace !" 
 
 She bowed her head, covered his hands with fever- 
 ish kisses and left the room. 
 
 !/ '■. '- ^;'»Jwi"«'l^-« . •. 
 
238 -i MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 *" I "HE loftiness of sentiment to which M. de Rias 
 had arisen in the emotion of this sc-ene, unfortu- 
 nately possessed no durability. Reflection, cold rea- 
 soning and bitter experience, were not slow in making 
 hiiH hear their voices and regaining their domination 
 over him. Each day, in decreasing measure, as the 
 time passed by, the impression produced upon him 
 by the passionate words of Madame de Rias, her 
 truthful accents and touching supplications, became 
 enfeebled, and doubt and dark distrust recurred to 
 his mind, gaining ground and meeting constantl3r 
 with readier welcome. He soon reached that point 
 where he asked himself if his easy confidence had 
 not been rather the candor and generosity of a dupe. 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFfl. 239 
 
 if he had not been the laughing-stock of a perfidious 
 farce — one of those lies bathed in tears, of which even 
 \good women are not ignorant. 
 
 The apparent relations between himself and wife 
 were then exteriorly those of pleasant accord, of affec- 
 tion and of unity. On the part of Madame de Rias, 
 there was a constant effort to avoid whatever might 
 be displeasing to her husband, and to do that which 
 might be pleasing to him, manifesting always a timid 
 and reserved affection, blended with devoted attention. 
 Lionel, at the same time, manifested a characteris- 
 tic goodness and graceful courtesy worthy of him. 
 Never, in his language, or in his eyes, was there 
 the shade of a resentment or a reproach ; his feelings 
 were too exalted for him to forfeit his word or the 
 forgiveness he had extended. 
 
 But in the very midst of that sweet home-happi- 
 ness, which seemed to almost realize the best dreams 
 of his life, he was perhaps, in the depths of his soul, 
 more unhappy than he had ever before been. An 
 
^40 ^. MAMRUOE IN HIOH LIFE. 
 
 incurable suspicion devoured him — he had been a 
 dtipe 1 He was secretly an object of the ironical dis- 
 dain of M. de Kevern, and of his wife herself. This 
 incessantly tormenting thought caused him the more 
 profound sadness, for the reason that he felt it to be 
 irremediable. It would always henceforth be between 
 him and his wife, forever congealing in his heart and 
 upon his lips the tendernesses and self-abandonments 
 of love. He now bitterly regretted the impulse of his 
 heart, which had condemned him to this agony of 
 doubt and eternal dissimulation. 
 
 One morning, toward the end of the month of July, 
 as he was smoking a cigar in the yard outside the 
 stables, he saw in the distance, Madame de Rias, 
 walking rapidly, through one of the paths of the park. 
 That path, at a little distance, crosses a road leading 
 to the village where Madame de Rias was accustomed 
 to dispense her charity. At first, he thought that this 
 was the object of her present walk, although it seemed 
 strangely matutinal for such a purpose. A moment 
 
A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 241 
 
 after, however, an apparently insignificant incident 
 awoke another supposition in his mind. It was the 
 hour at which the post-boy daily visited Fresnes, 
 and, after delivering his letters at the chateau, took 
 from the servants — or sometimes from a table in the 
 vestibule — those intended for the mail, continuing on 
 his waly to the neighboring village through the path 
 in which Madame de Rias was now walking. Lionel 
 was suddenly struck with the idea that his wife wished 
 to give some letter to the post-boy secretly, with her 
 own hand, and that she had gone out with this de- 
 sign to encouifter him in the forest, away from the 
 scrutiny of curious eyes. He was confirmpd in this 
 suspicion by seeing her speedily reappear and hur- 
 riedly return to the chateau as soon as the post-boy 
 had crossed her path. 
 
 M. de Rias entered the meadows through which 
 there was also a path leading to the village, shorter 
 than that through the park, but interdicted to the 
 
 public. A few minutes later he met the post boy, at 
 16> 
 
242 A MARRIAGE IN HIOH LIFE. 
 
 the moment when the latter was emerging from the 
 woods. 
 
 " I ran after you," he said to him. " You took from 
 the chateau, a little while ago, a letter addressed to 
 M. de Kevern, — did you not ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. Madame has just given it to me her- 
 self." 
 
 " Exactly. Will you be kind enough to give it to 
 me? There is a mistake in the address. You can 
 take it to-morrow." 
 
 The post-boy obeyed and went on his way. 
 
 The letter bore this superscription-: 
 
 " M. Henry de Kevern, Hotel des Bergues, Geneva." 
 
 M. de Rias looked at the note, turned it and re- 
 turned it in his hands, with inexpressible anguish. 
 To open it and violate its secret would be an action 
 concerning the character of which he could not 
 deceive himself. To respect it was to lose the oppor- 
 tunity, probably the only one, of dissipating the horri- 
 ble uncertainty which poisoned his life. 
 
A MARRIAOE IN HIGH LIFE. 243 
 
 He seated himself before one of the thickets of the 
 park, upon the trunk of a fallen tree, and was pro- 
 foundly absorbed in his perplexities when the noise 
 of carriage-wheels caused him to raise his eyes. He 
 recognised the carriage of Madame de Lorris. He 
 remembered that she was going to breakfast at the 
 chateau that day. When she perceived Lionel, Ma- 
 dame de Lorris apparently thought that he had come 
 to meet her. She ordered her coachman to stop, 
 immediately got out and sent away the carriage. 
 
 " This is very kind of you, sir," she said. " Is 
 Marie well ?" 
 
 " Very well, what a beautiful morning, is it 
 
 not ?" 
 
 He opened the gate and conducted her into the 
 avenue leading to the chateau. 
 
 Struck with his careworn and absent air, she said 
 to him, after they had gone a few paces : 
 
 " Well, — what is new now, my dear friend ?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
244 ^ MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 " I ask your pardon, your brow is stormy- 
 
 and then you were dreaming there, a Httle bit ago, 
 lifee a man meditating a crime." 
 
 "I have sometimes very sad thoughts," said Lionel. 
 
 "Why? You will never be happy thus, my 
 
 poor friend." 
 
 " I fear so." 
 
 She replied in a serious voice : 
 
 " It gives me a great deal of pain to hear yott say 
 that." Then, stopping in the middle of the avenue, 
 she continued : 
 
 " Come! What is it that is lacking? Confidence — 
 is it not so ?" 
 
 Lionel did not reply. 
 
 " MoK Dieu .'" she continued ; " what then can be 
 said -or done to give it to you?" 
 
 "What must be done," said M. de Rias abruptly, 
 giving way, to -a movement of impulse, " is to tell me 
 what is in this letter." 
 
 "T;. is letter! What is this letter ?" 
 
A MARRIAOB IN HIGH LIFE. 245 
 
 He held it before her eyes ; she read the address, 
 and turned slightly pale. 
 
 " This," replied Lionel, " is the history of this let- 
 ter. This morning I saw Marie give it secretly to the 
 post-boy. At the first moment the idea of letting the 
 letter go, bearing away eternally its secret, appeared 
 
 to me impossible, and I possesed myself of it. 
 
 That is already too much 1 will not open it. Take 
 
 it it is not a trap that I spread for you that 
 
 would be detestable. Do not open it, I beg of you : 
 
 I do not wish it. However sure you may be of your 
 friend and your brother, you are not sure enough to 
 risk such a proof Burn it, without reading it your- 
 self and without speaking of it to anybody. Promise 
 me " 
 
 Madame de Lorris took the letter, with a slightly 
 trembling hand — she looked fixedly at M. de Rias, 
 and broke the envelope. 
 
 The heroic young woman had then, however, a mo- 
 ment of faintness ; a haze passed over her eyes, and 
 
246 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 she tottered. Then she bravely nerved herself to 
 read the letter aloud : 
 
 " Sir and Friend : 
 
 " Am I wrong in writing you these lines ? I can- 
 not believe it, though I am hiding it from my hus- 
 band. I wish to save him even the shadow of a pain- 
 ful remembrance ; but towards you I feel that there 
 is a duty owing, that of telling you that I am happyl 
 
 " I know you well enough to be certain that the 
 thought of my happiness will be to you the best 
 of recompenses, and — if need be — consolation. I re- 
 member your words during that last interview, which 
 nearly had such fatal consequences — ' the best news 
 that I ever could hear, sent by you to me, would be 
 that your heart had sided with your duty.' 
 
 " Alas ! that then seemed to me impossible, yet a 
 few hours later that miracle was performed. My hus- 
 band saved me frorii the agonies of death ; his gener- 
 ous confidence, his goodness, truly divine, inspired in 
 me not only gratitude, but esteem, respect and tender- 
 
A MARRIA GE IN HIGH IIFE. 24; 
 
 ness worthy of them. From that moment he regained 
 me entirely, and I have loved him ever since, 
 
 " Each day still, when I recall that terrible night — 
 when I remember the follies, the imprudences of ray 
 language — (because, for the better showing of my 
 sincerity, I allowed myself to appear even more guilty 
 than I was) — when I think of his agonized heart, 
 his wounded pride, of all that he must have suffered, 
 all that he must have vanquished to tender me his 
 hand, — I long to fall at his feet and worship him. 
 
 " I dare not. He is tender and excellent, but un- 
 quiet, a little distrustful, yet, perhaps, in his secret 
 soul, I (eel it. I suffer from it sometimes, but with- 
 out being discouraged, for I also feel that the future is 
 mine, and that all the truth that is in my heart, will, 
 in time, pass into his and open it entirely to me. 
 
 " This, sir, is what I wished to say to you, and in 
 telling it to you, do I not give you the greatest proof 
 of the esteem of your pupil and friend ? / 
 
 Marie de Rias." ' 
 
.248 A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 When she had finished reading this letter, in a voice 
 shaken by emotion, Madame de Lorris saw that M. 
 de Rias had his hand over his eyes and that tears 
 rolled down his face. 
 
 We cannot finish this reqital without reminding the 
 reader that the Keverns are very rare in the world ; 
 that it is a very delicate thing to count too much on 
 their disinterested aid, and that a husband solicitous 
 , for the perfecting of the education of his wife, would 
 be wisely employed in conducting it 'himself and 
 never delegating his powers. 
 
 THE END.