The reader who has noted all the phases of her existence will have understood the various illusions by which Dinah, like many another woman, had been deceived.  After an attempt to master Monsieur de la Baudraye, she had indulged the hope of becoming a mother.  Between those miserable disputes over household matters and the melancholy conviction as to her fate, quite a long time had elapsed.  Then, when she had looked for consolation, the consoler, Monsieur de Chargeboeuf had left her.  Thus, the overwhelming temptation which commonly causes women to sin had hitherto been absent.  For if there are, after all, some women who make straight for unfaithfulness, are there not many more who cling to hope, and do not fall till they have wandered long in a labyrinth of secret woes?

Such was Dinah.  She had so little impulse to fail in her duty, that she did not care enough for Monsieur de Clagny to forgive him his defeat.

Then the move to the Chateau d’Anzy, the rearrangement of her collected treasures and curiosities, which derived added value from the splendid setting which Philibert de Lorme seemed to have planned on purpose for this museum, occupied her for several months, giving her leisure to meditate one of those decisive steps that startle the public, ignorant of the motives which, however, it sometimes discovers by dint of gossip and suppositions.

Madame de la Baudraye had been greatly struck by the reputation of Lousteau, who was regarded as a lady’s man of the first water in consequence of his intimacies among actresses; she was anxious to know him; she read his books, and was fired with enthusiasm, less perhaps for his talents than for his successes with women; and to attract him to the country, she started the notion that it was obligatory on Sancerre to return one of its great men at the elections.  She made Gatien Boirouge write to the great physician Bianchon, whom he claimed as a cousin through the Popinots.  Then she persuaded an old friend of the departed Madame Lousteau to stir up the journalist’s ambitions by letting him know that certain persons in Sancerre were firmly bent on electing a deputy from among the distinguished men in Paris.

Tired of her commonplace neighbors, Madame de la Baudraye would thus at last meet really illustrious men, and might give her fall the lustre of fame.

Neither Lousteau nor Bianchon replied; they were waiting perhaps till the holidays.  Bianchon, who had won his professor’s chair the year before after a brilliant contest, could not leave his lectures.

In the month of September, when the vintage was at its height, the two Parisians arrived in their native province, and found it absorbed in the unremitting toil of the wine-crop of 1836; there could therefore be no public demonstration in their favor.  “We have fallen flat,” said Lousteau to his companion, in the slang of the stage.