my pleasure. Did he not go to Strasbourg the other day to buy a pony for
me, because I thought Titania was too skittish? It would be impossible
to show greater kindness."

"Your husband," suddenly interrupted Mademoiselle de Corandeuil, for she
held the praise of others in sovereign displeasure, "is a Bergenheim like
all the Bergenheims present, past, and future, including your little
sister-in-law, who appears more as if she had been brought up with boys
than at the 'Sacred Heart.' He is a worthy son of his father there,"
said she, pointing to one of the portraits near the young Royal-Nassau
officer; "and he was the most brutal, unbearable, and detestable of all
the dragoons in Lorraine; so much so that he got into three quarrels at
Nancy in one month, and at Metz, over a game of checkers, he killed the
poor Vicomte de Megrigny, who was worth a hundred of him and danced so
well! Some one described Bergenheim as being 'proud as a peacock, as
stubborn as a mule, and as furious as a lion!' Ugly race! ugly race!
What I say to you now, Clemence, is to excuse your husband's faults, for
it would be time lost to try to correct them. However, all men are
alike; and since you are Madame de Bergenheim, you must accept your fate
and bear it as well as possible. And then, if you have your troubles,
you still have your good aunt to whom you can confide them and who will
not allow you to be tyrannized over. I will speak to your husband."

Clemence saw, from the first words of this tirade, that she must arm
herself with resignation; for anything which concerned the Bergenheims
aroused one of the hobbies which the old maid rode with a most complacent
spite; so she settled herself back in her chair like a person who would
at least be comfortable while she listened to a tiresome discourse, and
busied herself during this lecture caressing with the tip of a very
shapely foot the top of one of the andirons.