In the first place, the sneerers of Paris did not see without malicious smiles and words the pictures with which the former quartermaster adorned his handsome mansion.  Works of art purchased the night before were said to be spoils from Spain; and this accusation was the revenge of those who were jealous of his present fortune.  Juana comprehended this reproach, and by her advice Diard sent back to Tarragona all the pictures he had brought from there.  But the public, determined to see things in the worst light, only said, “That Diard is shrewd; he has sold his pictures.”  Worthy people continued to think that those which remained in the Diard salons were not honorably acquired.  Some jealous women asked how it was that a Diard (!) had been able to marry so rich and beautiful a young girl.  Hence comments and satires without end, such as Paris contributes.  And yet, it must be said, that Juana met on all sides the respect inspired by her pure and religious life, which triumphed over everything, even Parisian calumny; but this respect stopped short with her, her husband received none of it.  Juana’s feminine perception and her keen eye hovering over her salons, brought her nothing but pain.

This lack of esteem was perfectly natural.  Diard’s comrades, in spite of the virtues which our imaginations attribute to soldiers, never forgave the former quartermaster of the 6th of the line for becoming suddenly so rich and for attempting to cut a figure in Paris.  Now in Paris, from the last house in the faubourg Saint-Germain to the last in the rue Saint-Lazare, between the heights of the Luxembourg and the heights of Montmartre, all that clothes itself and gabbles, clothes itself to go out and goes out to gabble.  All that world of great and small pretensions, that world of insolence and humble desires, of envy and cringing, all that is gilded or tarnished, young or old, noble of yesterday or noble from the fourth century, all that sneers at a parvenu, all that fears to commit itself, all that wants to demolish power and worships power if it resists,—­all those ears hear, all those tongues say, all those minds know, in a single evening, where the new-comer who aspires to honor among them was born and brought up, and what that interloper has done, or has not done, in the course of his life.  There may be no court of assizes for the upper classes of society; but at any rate they have the most cruel of public prosecutors, an intangible moral being, both judge and executioner, who accuses and brands.  Do not hope to hide anything from him; tell him all yourself; he wants to know all and he will know all.  Do not ask what mysterious telegraph it was which conveyed to him in the twinkling of an eye, at any hour, in any place, that story, that bit of news, that scandal; do not ask what prompts him.  That telegraph is a social mystery; no observer can report its effects.  Of many extraordinary instances thereof, one may suffice:  The assassination of the Duc de Berry, which occurred at the Opera-house, was related within ten minutes in the Ile-Saint-Louis.  Thus the opinion of the 6th of the line as to its quartermaster filtered through society the night on which he gave his first ball.