Carried away, in spite of herself, by the excitement of her feelings, Adrienne paused for a moment, in order to return to earth; she did not perceive that the other actors in this scene were looking at each other with an air of delight.

“What she says there is excellent,” murmured the doctor in the princess’s ear, next to whom he was seated; “were she in league with us, she would not speak differently.”

“It is only by excessive harshness,” added D’Aigrigny, “that we shall bring her to the desired point.”

But it seemed as if the vexed emotion of Adrienne had been dissipated by the contact of the generous sentiments she had just uttered.  Addressing Baleinier with a smile, she said:  “I must own, doctor, that there is nothing more ridiculous, than to yield to the current of certain thoughts, in the presence of persons incapable of understanding them.  This would give you a fine opportunity to make game of that exaltation of mind for which you sometimes reproach me.  To let myself be carried away by transports at so serious a moment!—­for, verily, the matter in hand seems to be serious.  But you see, good M. Baleinier, when an idea comes into my head, I can no more help following it out, than I could refrain from running after butterflies when I was a little girl.”

“And heaven only knows whither these brilliant butterflies of all colors,” said M. Baleinier, smiling with an air of paternal indulgence, “that are passing through your brain, are likely to lead you.  Oh, madcap, when will she be as reasonable as she is charming?”

“This very instant, my good doctor,” replied Adrienne.  “I am about to cast off my reveries for realities, and speak plain and positive language, as you shall hear.”

Upon which, addressing her aunt, she continued:  “You have imparted to me your resolution, madame; I will now tell you mine.  Within a week, I shall quit the pavilion that I inhabit, for a house which I have arranged to my taste, where I shall live after my own fashion.  I have neither father nor mother, and I owe no account of my actions to any but myself.”

“Upon my word, mademoiselle,” said the princess, shrugging her shoulders, “you talk nonsense.  You forget that society has inalienable moral rights, which we are bound to enforce.  And we shall not neglect them, depend upon it.”

“So madame, it is you, and M. d’Aigrigny, and M. Tripeaud, that represent the morality of society!  This appears to me very fine.  Is it because M. Tripeaud has considered (I must acknowledge it) my fortune as his own?  Is it because—­”

“Now, really, madame,” began Tripeaud.

“In good time, madame,” said Adrienne to her aunt, without noticing the baron, “as the occasion offers, I shall have to ask you for explanations with regard to certain interests, which have hitherto, I think, been concealed from me.”