“’Mademoiselle, I have the honor of belonging to your family, a little distantly, to be sure; that is what makes me speak of an alliance between us as a thing already concluded.  One of my ancestors, Christophe de Gerfaut, married Mademoiselle Yolande de Corandeuil, one of your great-grand-aunts, in 1569.’

“‘Yolande is really a family name,’ replied the old lady, with the most affable smile that her face would admit; ’I bear it myself.  The Corandeuils, Monsieur, never have denied their alliances, and it is a pleasure for me to recognize my relationship with such a man as you.  We address by the title of cousin relatives as far back as 1300.’

“‘I am nearer related to you by three centuries,’ I replied, in my most insinuating voice; ’may I hope that this good fortune will authorize me to pay my respects to you?’

“Mademoiselle de Corandeuil replied to my ‘tartuferie’ by granting me permission to call upon her.  My attention was not so much absorbed in our conversation that I did not see in a mirror, during this time, the interest with which Madame de Bergenheim watched my conversation with her aunt; but I was careful not to turn around, and I let her take her departure without giving her a second glance.

“Three days later, I made my first call.  Madame de Bergenheim received my greeting like a woman who had been warned and was, therefore, prepared.  We exchanged only one rapid, earnest glance, that was all.  Availing myself of the presence of other callers, numerous enough to assure each one his liberty, I began to observe, with a practised eye, the field whereon I had just taken my position.

“Before the end of the evening, I recognized the correctness of Casorans’s information.  Among all the gentlemen present I found only two professed admirers:  Monsieur de Mauleon, whose insignificance was notorious, and Monsieur d’Arzenac, who appeared at first glance as if he might be more to be feared.  D’Arzenac, thanks to an income of ten thousand livres, beside being a man of rank, occupies also one of the finest positions that one could desire; he is not unworthy of his name and his fortune.  Irreproachable in morals as in manners; sufficiently well informed; of an exquisite but reserved politeness; understanding perfectly the ground that he is walking upon; making also more advances than is customary among the pachas of modern France, he was, without doubt, the flower of the flock in Mademoiselle de Corandeuil’s drawing-room.  In spite of all these advantages, an attentive examination showed me that his passion was hopeless.  Madame de Bergenheim received his attentions very kindly—­too kindly.  She usually listened to him with a smile in which one could read gratitude for the devotion he lavished upon her.  She willingly accepted him as her favorite partner in the galop, which he danced to perfection.  His success stopped there.

“At the end of several days, the ground having been carefully explored and the admirers, dangerous and otherwise, having been passed in review, one after another, I felt convinced that Clemence loved nobody.