"Though Monsieur le comte," said Madame de Reybert in conclusion, "may
have judged me unfavorably for the step I have taken unknown to my
husband, he ought to be convinced that we have obtained this
information about his steward in a natural and honorable manner; the
most sensitive conscience cannot take exception to it."

So saying, Madame de Reybert, nee de Corroy, stood erect as a
pike-staff. She presented to the rapid investigation of the count a
face seamed with the small-pox like a colander with holes, a flat,
spare figure, two light and eager eyes, fair hair plastered down upon
an anxious forehead, a small drawn-bonnet of faded green taffetas lined
with pink, a white gown with violet spots, and leather shoes. The
count recognized the wife of some poor, half-pay captain, a puritan,
subscribing no doubt to the "Courrier Francais," earnest in virtue,
but aware of the comfort of a good situation and eagerly coveting it.

"You say your husband has a pension of six hundred francs," he said,
replying to his own thoughts, and not to the remark Madame de Reybert
had just made.

"Yes, monsieur."

"You were born a Corroy?"

"Yes, monsieur,--a noble family of Metz, where my husband belongs."

"In what regiment did Monsieur de Reybert serve?"

"The 7th artillery."