those that all men honor, to her misfortunes, which they ceased to
discuss, and to her beauty, the only thing she saved of her departed
opulence. Society, of which she had once been the ornament, was
thankful to her for having, as it were, taken the veil, and cloistered
herself in her own home. This act of good taste was for her, more than
for any other woman, an immense sacrifice. Great deeds are always so
keenly felt in France that the princess gained, by her retreat, as
much as she had lost in public opinion in the days of her splendor.

She now saw only one of her old friends, the Marquise d'Espard, and
even to her she never went on festive occasions or to parties. The
princess and the marquise visited each other in the forenoons, with a
certain amount of secrecy. When the princess went to dine with her
friend, the marquise closed her doors. Madame d'Espard treated the
princess charmingly; she changed her box at the opera, leaving the
first tier for a baignoire on the ground-floor, so that Madame de
Cadignan could come to the theatre unseen, and depart incognito. Few
women would have been capable of a delicacy which deprived them of the
pleasure of bearing in their train a fallen rival, and of publicly
being her benefactress. Thus relieved of the necessity for costly
toilets, the princess could enjoy the theatre, whither she went in
Madame d'Espard's carriage, which she would never have accepted openly
in the daytime. No one has ever known Madame d'Espard's reasons for
behaving thus to the Princesse de Cadignan; but her conduct was
admirable, and for a long time included a number of little acts which,
viewed single, seem mere trifles, but taken in the mass become
gigantic.

In 1832, three years had thrown a mantle of snow over the follies and
adventures of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, and had whitened them so