At most entertainments women are to be met who are there, like Madame
de Lansac, as old sailors gather on the seashore to watch younger
mariners struggling with the tempest. At this moment Madame de Lansac,
who seemed to be interested in the personages of this drama, could
easily guess the agitation which the Countess was going through. The
lady might fan herself gracefully, smile on the young men who bowed to
her, and bring into play all the arts by which a woman hides her
emotion,--the Dowager, one of the most clear-sighted and
mischief-loving duchesses bequeathed by the eighteenth century to the
nineteenth, could read her heart and mind through it all.

The old lady seemed to detect the slightest movement that revealed the
impressions of the soul. The imperceptible frown that furrowed that
calm, pure forehead, the faintest quiver of the cheeks, the curve of
the eyebrows, the least curl of the lips, whose living coral could
conceal nothing from her,--all these were to the Duchess like the
print of a book. From the depths of her large arm-chair, completely
filled by the flow of her dress, the coquette of the past, while
talking to a diplomate who had sought her out to hear the anecdotes
she told so cleverly, was admiring herself in the younger coquette;
she felt kindly to her, seeing how bravely she disguised her annoyance
and grief of heart. Madame de Vaudremont, in fact, felt as much sorrow
as she feigned cheerfulness; she had believed that she had found in
Martial a man of talent on whose support she could count for adorning
her life with all the enchantment of power; and at this moment she
perceived her mistake, as injurious to her reputation as to her good
opinion of herself. In her, as in other women of that time, the
suddenness of their passions increased their vehemence. Souls which
love much and love often, suffer no less than those which burn