As to the Marquise, one must have formed no conception of this depraved though haughty spirit, if astonished at her persistence, in cold blood, and after reflection, in the perfidious plot which the imminence of her danger had suggested to her.  She saw that the suspicions of the General might be reawakened another day in a more dangerous manner, if this marriage proved only a farce.  She loved Camors passionately; and she loved scarcely less the dramatic mystery of their liaison.  She had also felt a frantic terror at the thought of losing the great fortune which she regarded as her own; for the disinterestedness of her early youth had long vanished, and the idea of sinking miserably in the Parisian world, where she had long reigned by her luxury as well as her beauty, was insupportable to her.

Love, mystery, fortune-she wished to preserve them all at any price; and the more she reflected, the more the marriage of Camors appeared to her the surest safeguard.

It was true, it would give her a sort of rival.  But she had too high an opinion of herself to fear anything; and she preferred Mademoiselle de Tecle to any other, because she knew her, and regarded her as an inferior in everything.

About fifteen days after, the General called on Madame de Tecle one morning, and demanded for M. de Camors her daughter’s hand.  It would be painful to dwell on the joy which Madame de Tecle felt; and her only surprise was that Camors had not come in person to press his suit.  But Camors had not the heart to do so.  He had been at Reuilly since that morning, and called on Madame de Tecle, where he learned his overture was accepted.  Once having resolved on this monstrous action, he was determined to carry it through in the most correct manner, and we know he was master of all social arts.

In the evening Madame de Tecle and her daughter, left alone, walked together a long time on their dear terrace, by the soft light of the stars—­the daughter blessing her mother, and the mother thanking God—­both mingling their hearts, their dreams, their kisses, and their tears—­happier, poor women, than is permitted long to human beings.  The marriage took place the ensuing month.

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     Have not that pleasure, it is useless to incur the penalties
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     Two persons who desired neither to remember nor to forget

MONSIEUR DE CAMORS

By octave Feuillet