The town of Alencon, however, was not entirely represented by this salon.  The higher aristocracy had a salon of their own; moreover, that of the receiver-general was like an administration inn kept by the government, where society danced, plotted, fluttered, loved, and supped.  These two salons communicated by means of certain mixed individuals with the house of Cormon, and vice-versa; but the Cormon establishment sat severely in judgment on the two other camps.  The luxury of their dinners was criticised; the ices at their balls were pondered; the behavior of the women, the dresses, and “novelties” there produced were discussed and disapproved.

Mademoiselle Cormon, a species of firm, as one might say, under whose name was comprised an imposing coterie, was naturally the aim and object of two ambitious men as deep and wily as the Chevalier de Valois and du Bousquier.  To the one as well as to the other, she meant election as deputy, resulting, for the noble, in the peerage, for the purveyor, in a receiver-generalship.  A leading salon is a difficult thing to create, whether in Paris or the provinces, and here was one already created.  To marry Mademoiselle Cormon was to reign in Alencon.  Athanase Granson, the only one of the three suitors for the hand of the old maid who no longer calculated profits, now loved her person as well as her fortune.

To employ the jargon of the day, is there not a singular drama in the situation of these four personages?  Surely there is something odd and fantastic in three rivalries silently encompassing a woman who never guessed their existence, in spite of an eager and legitimate desire to be married.  And yet, though all these circumstances make the spinsterhood of this old maid an extraordinary thing, it is not difficult to explain how and why, in spite of her fortune and her three lovers, she was still unmarried.  In the first place, Mademoiselle Cormon, following the custom and rule of her house, had always desired to marry a nobleman; but from 1788 to 1798 public circumstances were very unfavorable to such pretensions.  Though she wanted to be a woman of condition, as the saying is, she was horribly afraid of the Revolutionary tribunal.  The two sentiments, equal in force, kept her stationary by a law as true in ethics as it is in statics.  This state of uncertain expectation is pleasing to unmarried women as long as they feel themselves young, and in a position to choose a husband.  France knows that the political system of Napoleon resulted in making many widows.  Under that regime heiresses were entirely out of proportion in numbers to the bachelors who wanted to marry.  When the Consulate restored internal order, external difficulties made the marriage of Mademoiselle Cormon as difficult to arrange as it had been in the past.  If, on the one hand, Rose-Marie-Victoire refused to marry an old man, on the other, the fear of ridicule forbade her to marry a very young one.

In the provinces, families marry their sons early to escape the conscription.  In addition to all this, she was obstinately determined not to marry a soldier:  she did not intend to take a man and then give him up to the Emperor; she wanted him for herself alone.  With these views, she found it therefore impossible, from 1804 to 1815, to enter the lists with young girls who were rivalling each other for suitable matches.