In her early girlhood she had been married to an elderly and jealous soldier.  Her false position in the midst of a gay Court had doubtless done something to bring a veil of sadness over a face that must once have been bright with the charms of quick-pulsed life and love.  She had been compelled to set constant restraint upon her frank impulses and emotions at an age when a woman feels rather than thinks, and the depths of passion in her heart had never been stirred.  In this lay the secret of her greatest charm, a youthfulness of the inmost soul, betrayed at times by her face, and a certain tinge of innocent wistfulness in her ideas.  She was reserved in her demeanor, but in her bearing and in the tones of her voice there was still something that told of girlish longings directed toward a vague future.  Before very long the least susceptible fell in love with her, and yet stood somewhat in awe of her dignity and high-bred manner.  Her great soul, strengthened by the cruel ordeals through which she had passed, seemed to set her too far above the ordinary level, and these men weighed themselves, and instinctively felt that they were found wanting.  Such a nature demanded an exalted passion.

Moreover, Mme. de Dey’s affections were concentrated in one sentiment—­a mother’s love for her son.  All the happiness and joy that she had not known as a wife, she had found later in her boundless love for him.  The coquetry of a mistress, the jealousy of a wife mingled with the pure and deep affection of a mother.  She was miserable when they were apart, and nervous about him while he was away; she could never see enough of him, and lived through and for him alone.  Some idea of the strength of this tie may be conveyed to the masculine understanding by adding that this was not only Mme. de Dey’s only son, but all she had of kith or kin in the world, the one human being on earth bound to her by all the fears and hopes and joys of her life.

The late Comte de Dey was the last of his race, and she, his wife, was the sole heiress and descendant of her house.  So worldly ambitions and family considerations, as well as the noblest cravings of the soul, combined to heighten in the Countess a sentiment that is strong in every woman’s heart.  The child was all the dearer, because only with infinite care had she succeeded in rearing him to man’s estate; medical science had predicted his death a score of times, but she had held fast to her presentiments and her hopes, and had known the inexpressible joy of watching him pass safely through the perils of infancy, of seeing his constitution strengthen in spite of the decrees of the Faculty.

Thanks to her constant care, the boy had grown up and developed so favorably, that at twenty years of age he was regarded as one of the most accomplished gentlemen at the Court of Versailles.  One final happiness that does not always crown a mother’s efforts was hers—­her son worshiped her; and between these two there was the deep sympathy of kindred souls.  If they had not been bound to each other already by a natural and sacred tie, they would instinctively have felt for each other a friendship that is rarely met with between two men.