It did not seem to strike either the lawyer or Madame de la Baudraye that there was in this narrative the least allusion that should apply to them.  Those in the little plot looked inquiringly at each other, evidently surprised at the perfect coolness of the two supposed lovers.

“Oh!  I can tell you a better story than that,” said Bianchon.

“Let us hear,” said the audience, at a sign from Lousteau, conveying that Bianchon had a reputation as a story-teller.

Among the stock of narratives he had in store, for every clever man has a fund of anecdotes as Madame de la Baudraye had a collection of phrases, the doctor chose that which is known as La Grande Breteche, and is so famous indeed, that it was put on the stage at the Gymnase-Dramatique under the title of Valentine.  So it is not necessary to repeat it here, though it was then new to the inhabitants of the Chateau d’Anzy.  And it was told with the same finish of gesture and tone which had won such praise for Bianchon when at Mademoiselle des Touches’ supper-party he had told it for the first time.  The final picture of the Spanish grandee, starved to death where he stood in the cupboard walled up by Madame de Merret’s husband, and that husband’s last word as he replied to his wife’s entreaty, “You swore on that crucifix that there was no one in that closet!” produced their full effect.  There was a silent minute, highly flattering to Bianchon.

“Do you know, gentlemen,” said Madame de la Baudraye, “love must be a mighty thing that it can tempt a woman to put herself in such a position?”

“I, who have certainly seen some strange things in the course of my life,” said Gravier, “was cognizant in Spain of an adventure of the same kind.”

“You come forward after two great performers,” said Madame de la Baudraye, with coquettish flattery, as she glanced at the two Parisians.  “But never mind—­proceed.”

“Some little time after his entry into Madrid,” said the Receiver-General, “the Grand Duke of Berg invited the magnates of the capital to an entertainment given to the newly conquered city by the French army.  In spite of the splendor of the affair, the Spaniards were not very cheerful; their ladies hardly danced at all, and most of the company sat down to cards.  The gardens of the Duke’s palace were so brilliantly illuminated, that the ladies could walk about in as perfect safety as in broad daylight.  The fete was of imperial magnificence.  Nothing was grudged to give the Spaniards a high idea of the Emperor, if they were to measure him by the standard of his officers.

“In an arbor near the house, between one and two in the morning, a party of French officers were discussing the chances of war, and the not too hopeful outlook prognosticated by the conduct of the Spaniards present at that grand ball.