When she arose to leave, I asked permission to walk back with her to Richeport, as she was not well enough to go so far alone; she eagerly accepted my offer, and as we went along, conversing upon indifferent subjects, her uneasiness gradually disappeared; our conversation seemed to relieve her mind of its heavy burden.

It happened that truth spoke for itself, as it always does, but unfortunately is not always listened to.  By my manners, the tone of my voice, my respectful but dignified politeness—­which in no way resembled Mad.  Taverneau’s servile and obsequious eagerness to please, her humble deference being that of an inferior to a superior, whilst mine was nothing more than that due to an old lady from a young one—­by these shades insignificant to the generality of people, but all revealing to an experienced eye, Mad. de Meilhan at once divined everything, that is to say, that I was her equal in rank, education and nobility of soul; she knew it, she felt it.  This fact admitted, one thing remained uncertain; why had I fallen from my rank in society?  Was it through misfortune or error?  This was the question she was asking herself.

I knew enough of her projects for the future, her ambition as a mother, to decide which of the two suppositions would alarm her most.  If I were a light, trifling woman, as she every now and then seemed to hope, her son was merely engaged in a flirtation that would have no dangerous result; if on the contrary I was an honorable woman, which she evidently feared might be the case, her son’s future was ruined, and she trembled for the consequences of this serious passion.  Her perplexity amused me.  The country around us was superb, and as we walked along I went into ecstasies over the beauty of the scenery and the lovely tints of the sky; she would smile and think:  “She is only an artist, an adventuress—­I am saved; she will merely be Edgar’s friend, and keep him all the winter at Richeport.”  Alas! it is a great pity that she is not rich enough to spend the winter in Paris with Edgar; she seems miserable at being separated from him for months at a time.

At a few yards from the chateaux a group of pretty children chasing a poor donkey around a little island attracted my attention.

“That island formerly belonged to the Richeport estate,” said Mad. de Meilhan; “so did those large meadows you see down below; the height of my ambition is to buy them back, but to do this Edgar must marry an heiress.”

This word troubled me, and Mad. de Meilhan seemed annoyed.  She evidently thought:  “She is an honest woman, and wants to marry Edgar, I fear,” I took no notice of her sudden coldness of manner, but thought to myself:  How delightful it would be to carry out these ambitious plans, and gratify every wish of this woman’s heart!  I have but to utter one word, and not only would she have this island and these meadows, but she would possess all this beautiful forest.  Oh! how sweet would