Such was the judgment of the servants.  That of society was perhaps less favorable.

The Viscount de Commarin was not one of those who possess the rather questionable and at times unenviable accomplishment of pleasing every one.  He was wise enough to distrust those astonishing personages who are always praising everybody.  In looking about us, we often see men of success and reputation, who are simply dolts, without any merit except their perfect insignificance.  That stupid propriety which offends no one, that uniform politeness which shocks no one’s vanity, have peculiarly the gift of pleasing and of succeeding.

One cannot meet certain persons without saying, “I know that face; I have seen it somewhere, before;” because it has no individuality, but simply resembles faces seen in a common crowd.  It is precisely so with the minds of certain other people.  When they speak, you know exactly what they are going to say; you have heard the same thing so many times already from them, you know all their ideas by heart.  These people are welcomed everywhere:  because they have nothing peculiar about them; and peculiarity, especially in the upper classes, is always irritating and offensive; they detest all innovations.

Albert was peculiar; consequently much discussed, and very differently estimated.  He was charged with sins of the most opposite character, with faults so contradictory that they were their own defence.  Some accused him, for instance, of entertaining ideas entirely too liberal for one of his rank; and, at the same time, others complained of his excessive arrogance.  He was charged with treating with insulting levity the most serious questions, and was then blamed for his affectation of gravity.  People knew him scarcely well enough to love him, while they were jealous of him and feared him.

He wore a bored look in all fashionable reunions, which was considered very bad taste.  Forced by his relations, by his father, to go into society a great deal, he was bored, and committed the unpardonable sin of letting it be seen.  Perhaps he had been disgusted by the constant court made to him, by the rather coarse attentions which were never spared the noble heir of one of the richest families in France.  Having all the necessary qualities for shining, he despised them.  Dreadful sin!  He did not abuse his advantages; and no one ever heard of his getting into a scrape.

He had had once, it was said, a very decided liking for Madame Prosny, perhaps the naughtiest, certainly the most mischievous woman in Paris; but that was all.  Mothers who had daughters to dispose of upheld him; but, for the last two years, they had turned against him, when his love for Mademoiselle d’Arlange became well known.