“Mamma, how well Monsieur Dorlange talks.”

Apropos of Nais, here is one of her remarks:—­

“When he stopped the horses, mamma, and you did not seem to notice him, I thought he was only a man.”

“How do you mean,—­only a man?”

“Well, yes! one of those persons to whom one pays no attention.  But, oh!  I was so glad when I found out he was a monsieur.  Didn’t you hear me cry out, ’Ah! you are the monsieur who saved me’?”

Though her innocence is perfect, there was such pride and vanity in this little speech that I gave her, as you may well suppose, a lecture upon it.  This distinction of man and monsieur is dreadful; but, after all, the child told the truth.  She only said, with her blunt simplicity, what our democratic customs still allow us to put in practice, though they forbid us to put it into words.  The Revolution of ’89 has at least introduced that virtuous hypocrisy into our social system.

But I refrain from politics.

VIII

THE COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE TO MADAME OCTAVE DE CAMPS

April, 1839.

For the last two weeks we have heard nothing more of Monsieur Dorlange.  Not only has he not seen fit to renew the conversation so provokingly interrupted by Madame de la Bastie, but he has not even remembered that it was proper to leave his card at the house after a dinner.

While we were breakfasting yesterday morning, I happened to make this remark (though without any sharpness), and just then our Lucas, who, as an old servant, sometimes allows himself a little familiarity, had the door swung triumphantly open to admit him, bearing something, I knew not what, wrapped in tissue paper, which he deposited with great care on the table, giving a note to Monsieur de l’Estorade at the same time.

“What is that?” I said to Lucas, on whose face I detected the signs of a “surprise,” at the same time putting out my hand to uncover the mysterious article.

“Oh! madame must be careful!” cried Lucas; “it is fragile.”

During this time my husband had read the note, which he now passed to me, saying:—­

“Read it.  Monsieur Dorlange sends us an excuse.”

The note said:—­

Monsieur le Comte,—­I think I observed that Madame la comtesse granted me rather reluctantly her permission to profit by the audacious larceny I committed at her expense.  I have, therefore, taken upon myself to change the character of my statue, and, at the present moment, the two sisters no longer resemble each other.  Nevertheless, as I did not wish that all should be lost to the world, I modelled the head of Saint-Ursula before retouching it.  From that model I have now made a reduction, which I place upon the charming shoulders of a countess not yet canonized, thank God!  The mould was broken as soon as the one cast, which I have now the honor of sending you, was made.  This fact may, perhaps, give some little additional value to the bust in your eyes.

  Accept, Monsieur le comte, etc., etc.