spiteful speeches.  But that you, who can marry your daughter when you please, you, who are rich and titled, you who have nothing of the provincial about you, whose daughter is clever and possesses fine qualities, with beauty and the power to choose—­that you, so distinguished from the rest by your Parisian grace, should have paid the least heed to this talk does really surprise me.  Am I bound to account to the public for the marriage stipulations which our notaries think necessary under the political circumstances of my son-in-law’s future life?  Has the mania for public discussion made its way into families?  Ought I to convoke in writing the fathers and mothers of the province to come here and give their vote on the clauses of our marriage contract?”

A torrent of epigram flowed over Bordeaux.  Madame Evangelista was about to leave the city, and could safely scan her friends and enemies, caricature them and lash them as she pleased, with nothing to fear in return.  Accordingly, she now gave vent to her secret observations and her latent dislikes as she sought for the reason why this or that person denied the shining of the sun at mid-day.

“But, my dear,” said the Marquise de Gyas, “this stay of the count at Lanstrac, these parties given to young men under such circumstances—­”

“Ah! my dear,” said the great lady, interrupting the marquise, “do you suppose that we adopt the pettiness of bourgeois customs?  Is Count Paul held in bonds like a man who might seek to get away?  Think you we ought to watch him with a squad of gendarmes lest some provincial conspiracy should get him away from us?”

“Be assured, my dearest friend, that it gives me the greatest pleasure to—­”

Here her words were interrupted by a footman who entered the room to announce Paul.  Like many lovers, Paul thought it charming to ride twelve miles to spend an hour with Natalie.  He had left his friends while hunting, and came in booted and spurred, and whip in hand.

“Dear Paul,” said Natalie, “you don’t know what an answer you are giving to madame.”

When Paul heard of the gossip that was current in Bordeaux, he laughed instead of being angry.

“These worthy people have found out, perhaps, that there will be no wedding festivities, according to provincial usages, no marriage at mid-day in the church, and they are furious.  Well, my dear mother,” he added, kissing her hand, “let us pacify them with a ball on the day when we sign the contract, just as the government flings a fete to the people in the great square of the Champs-Elysees, and we will give our dear friends the dolorous pleasure of signing a marriage-contract such as they have seldom heard of in the provinces.”

This little incident proved of great importance.  Madame Evangelista invited all Bordeaux to witness the signature of the contract, and showed her intention of displaying in this last fete a luxury which should refute the foolish lies of the community.