“In that chateau, I first saw the light of day, and there I spent my happy childhood and youth.

“The estate of Rossillon had been bequeathed by the will of my grandfather, to his two sons.  The elder, the present Count de Rossillon, inherited the larger portion; my father, the younger son, the smaller share.

“My father was a Bonapartist, and at the time of his marriage held a high rank in the army.  During his absence from the country, my mother resided at the chateau with her brother-in-law, the Count.

“One day in June, news arrived of the sudden death of my father.  It was communicated to my mother, by the messenger who brought it, without precaution.  That night, one hour after, I was ushered into an orphaned existence and my mother took her departure from the world.  Think of me, Adele, thus thrown a waif upon the shore of life.  Yet, though born in the shadow of a great sorrow, sunlight struck across my path.

“The faithful bonne, who had taken care of my mother in her infancy and had never left her, now took charge of me.  She watched over me faithfully and filled up my childhood with affectionate attention and innocent pastime.  My uncle, the Count, who had never been married, loved, petted, and indulged me in every wish.  When I grew old enough, he secured a governess well qualified to teach and discipline me.  Under her care, with the aid of masters in Latin, music, and drawing, from Amiens, I went through the course of instruction considered necessary for young ladies at that time.

“I was at your age my Adele when I first met your father.  He was not the bronzed and careworn man you see him now.  Ah! no.  He was young and gay, with a falcon glance and, black wreathing locks hanging over his white, smooth brow.  His father was of noble blood, and sympathized warmly with the dethroned Bourbons.  He was no lover of the great Consul.  The political troubles in France had operated in ways greatly to impoverish his house.

“He owned and occupied only the remnant of what had been a large estate, adjoining that of the Count de Ros.

“While acquiring his education, your father, except at occasional intervals, was six years from home, and it so happened that I never met him in my childhood.  Indeed, the families were not on terms of intimacy.  On his return from the University, I first saw him. Eh! bien! It is the same old story that you have heard and read of, in your books, my Adele.  We became acquainted, I will not stop now, to tell you how, and soon learned to love each other.  Time passed on, and at last your father sought the consent of my uncle, to our marriage.  But he put aside the proposition with anger and scorn.  He thought that Claude Dubois was neither distinguished nor rich enough to match his niece.  In his heart, he had reserved me for some conspicuous position in the great circle at Paris, while I had given myself to an obscure youth in Picardy.