He is a handsome young fellow, but melancholy, and given to moods.  I have divined his secret, though neither the Duke nor Duchess has an inkling of it.  In spite of his youth and his title, he is jealous of his father.  He has no position in the State, no post at Court, he never has to say, “I am going to the Chamber.”  I alone in the house have sixteen hours for meditation.  My father is absorbed in public business and his own amusements; my mother, too, is never at leisure; no member of the household practises self-examination, they are constantly in company, and have hardly time to live.

I should immensely like to know what is the potent charm wielded by society to keep people prisoner from nine every evening till two or three in the morning, and force them to be so lavish alike of strength and money.  When I longed for it, I had no idea of the separations it brought about, or its overmastering spell.  But, then, I forget, it is Paris which does it all.

It is possible, it seems, for members of one family to live side by side and know absolutely nothing of each other.  A half-fledged nun arrives, and in a couple of weeks has grasped domestic details, of which the master diplomatist at the head of the house is quite ignorant.  Or perhaps he does see, and shuts his eyes deliberately, as part of the father’s role.  There is a mystery here which I must plumb.

IV

The same to the same
December 15th.

Yesterday, at two o’clock, I went to drive in the Champs-Elysees and the Bois de Boulogne.  It was one of those autumn days which we used to find so beautiful on the banks of the Loire.  So I have seen Paris at last!  The Place Louis XV. is certainly very fine, but the beauty is that of man’s handiwork.

I was dressed to perfection, pensive, with set face (though inwardly much tempted to laugh), under a lovely hat, my arms crossed.  Would you believe it?  Not a single smile was thrown at me, not one poor youth was struck motionless as I passed, not a soul turned to look again; and yet the carriage proceeded with a deliberation worthy of my pose.

No, I am wrong, there was one—­a duke, and a charming man—­who suddenly reined in as we went by.  The individual who thus saved appearances for me was my father, and he proclaimed himself highly gratified by what he saw.  I met my mother also, who sent me a butterfly kiss from the tips of her fingers.  The worthy Griffith, who fears no man, cast her glances hither and thither without discrimination.  In my judgment, a young woman should always know exactly what her eye is resting on.

I was mad with rage.  One man actually inspected my carriage without noticing me.  This flattering homage probably came from a carriage-maker.  I have been quite out in the reckoning of my forces.  Plainly, beauty, that rare gift which comes from heaven, is commoner in Paris than I thought.  I saw hats doffed with deference to simpering fools; a purple face called forth murmurs of, “It is she!” My mother received an immense amount of admiration.  There is an answer to this problem, and I mean to find it.