in advance, and de Jars had become quite absorbed by his adventure with the convent boarder at La Raquette, and the business of that young stranger whom he passed off as his nephew.  Mademoiselle de Guerchi had never seen them again; and with her it was out of sight out of mind.  At the moment when she comes into our story she was weaving her toils round a certain Duc de Vitry, whom she had seen at court, but whose acquaintance she had never made, and who had been absent when the scandalous occurrence which led to her disgrace came to light.  He was a man of from twenty-five to twenty-six years of age, who idled his life away:  his courage was undoubted, and being as credulous as an old libertine, he was ready to draw his sword at any moment to defend the lady whose cause he had espoused, should any insolent slanderer dare to hint there was a smirch on her virtue.  Being deaf to all reports, he seemed one of those men expressly framed by heaven to be the consolation of fallen women; such a man as in our times a retired opera-dancer or a superannuated professional beauty would welcome with open arms.  He had only one fault—­he was married.  It is true he neglected his wife, according to the custom of the time, and it is probably also true that his wife cared very little about his infidelities.  But still she was an insurmountable obstacle to the fulfilment of Mademoiselle de Guerchi’s hopes, who but for her might have looked forward to one day becoming a duchess.

For about three weeks, however, at the time we are speaking of, the duke had neither crossed her threshold nor written.  He had told her he was going for a few days to Normandy, where he had large estates, but had remained absent so long after the date he had fixed for his return that she began to feel uneasy.  What could be keeping him?  Some new flame, perhaps.  The anxiety of the lady was all the more keen, that until now nothing had passed between them but looks of languor and words of love.  The duke had laid himself and all he possessed at the feet of Angelique, and Angelique had refused his offer.  A too prompt surrender would have justified the reports so wickedly spread against her; and, made wise by experience, she was resolved not to compromise her future as she had compromised her past.  But while playing at virtue she had also to play at disinterestedness, and her pecuniary resources were consequently almost exhausted.  She had proportioned the length of her resistance to the length of her purse, and now the prolonged absence of her lover threatened to disturb the equilibrium which she had established between her virtue and her money.  So it happened that the cause of the lovelorn Duc de Vitry was in great peril just at the moment when de Jars and Jeannin resolved to approach the fair one anew.  She was sitting lost in thought, pondering in all good faith on the small profit it was to a woman to be virtuous, when she heard voices in the antechamber.  Then her door opened, and the king’s treasurer walked in.