us in 1789. Our dulness and our humdrum lives are the outcome of the
political system. Italy at any rate is the land of sharp contrasts.
Woman there is a malevolent animal, a dangerous unreasoning siren,
guided only by her tastes and appetites, a creature no more to be
trusted than a tiger--"

Mme. Firmiani here came up to interrupt this soliloquy made up of
vague, conflicting, and fragmentary thoughts which cannot be
reproduced in words. The whole charm of such musing lies in its
vagueness--what is it but a sort of mental haze?

"I want to introduce you to some one who has the greatest wish to make
your acquaintance, after all that she has heard of you," said the
lady, taking his arm.

She brought him into the next room, and with such a smile and glance
as a Parisienne alone can give, she indicated a woman sitting by the
hearth.

"Who is she?" the Comte de Vandenesse asked quickly.

"You have heard her name more than once coupled with praise or blame.
She is a woman who lives in seclusion--a perfect mystery."

"Oh! if ever you have been merciful in your life, for pity's sake tell
me her name."

"She is the Marquise d'Aiglemont."

"I will take lessons from her; she had managed to make a peer of