“Certainly, General!”

“Very well!  It is for to-morrow, you know!”

“Yes, General.”

“Sacrebleu!  You are very cool!  Have you seen her?”

“Not yet, General.  I have just arrived.”

“You must go and see her this morning.  You owe her this mark of interest; and if you discover anything, you must tell me.”

“But what should I discover, General?”

“How do I know?  But you understand women much better than I!  Does she love me, or does she not love me?  You understand, I make no pretensions of turning her head, but still I do not wish to be an object of repulsion to her.  Nothing has given me reason to suppose so, but the girl is so reserved, so impenetrable.”

“Mademoiselle d’Estrelles is naturally cold,” said Camors.

“Yes,” responded the General.  “Yes, and in some respects I—­but really now, should you discover anything, I rely on your communicating it to me.  And stop!—­when you have seen her, have the kindness to return here, for a few moments—­will you?  You will greatly oblige me!”

“Certainly, General, I shall do so.”

“For my part, I love her like a fool.”

“That is only right, General!”

“Hum—­and what of Des Rameures?”

“I think we shall agree, General!”

“Bravo! we shall talk more of this later.  Go and see her, my dear child!”

Camors proceeded to the Rue St. Dominique, where Madame de la Roche-Jugan resided.

“Is my aunt in, Joseph?” he inquired of the servant whom he found in the antechamber, very busy in the preparations which the occasion demanded.

“Yes, Monsieur le Comte, Madame la Comtesse is in and will see you.”

“Very well,” said Camors; and directed his steps toward his aunt’s chamber.  But this chamber was no longer hers.  This worthy woman had insisted on giving it up to Mademoiselle Charlotte, for whom she manifested, since she had become the betrothed of the seven hundred thousand francs’ income of the General, the most humble deference.  Mademoiselle d’Estrelles had accepted this change with a disdainful indifference.  Camors, who was ignorant of this change, knocked therefore most innocently at the door.  Obtaining no answer, he entered without hesitation, lifted the curtain which hung in the doorway, and was immediately arrested by a strange spectacle.  At the other extremity of the room, facing him, was a large mirror, before which stood Mademoiselle d’Estrelles.  Her back was turned to him.

She was dressed, or rather draped, in a sort of dressing-gown of white cashmere, without sleeves, which left her arms and shoulders bare.  Her auburn hair was unbound and floating, and fell in heavy masses almost to her feet.  One hand rested lightly on the toilet-table, the other held together, over her bust, the folds of her dressing-gown.

She was gazing at herself in the glass, and weeping bitterly.