only--the principles which I openly avow, he keeps locked up in his
snuff-box--and trust him for not forgetting to open it at the opportune
moment. He has suffered cruelly for his opinions, in the sense of having
so often been obliged to conceal them. He concealed them, first, under
the consulate, when he returned from exile. He dissimulated them even
more courageously under the Empire--for he played the part of a kind of
chamberlain to Bonaparte, this dear marquis. But, chut! do not remind
him of that proof of heroism; he has deplored it bitterly since the
battle of Lutzen."

This was the tone in which M. de Sairmeuse was accustomed to speak of
his best friends.

"The history of his fortune," he continued, "is the history of his
marriages--I say _marriages_, because he has married a number of times,
and always advantageously. Yes, in a period of fifteen years he has had
the misfortune of losing three wives, each richer than the other. His
daughter is the child of his third and last wife, a Cisse Blossac--she
died in 1809. He comforted himself after each bereavement by purchasing
a quantity of lands or bonds. So that now he is as rich as you are,
Marquis, and his influence is powerful and widespread. I forgot one
detail, however, he believes, they tell me, in the growing power of the
clergy, and has become very devout."

He checked himself; the carriage had stopped before the entrance of
the Chateau de Courtornieu, and the marquis came forward to receive his
guests in person. A nattering distinction, which he seldom lavished upon
his visitors. The marquis was long rather than tall, and very solemn
in deportment. The head that surmounted his angular form was remarkably
small, a characteristic of his race, and covered with thin, glossy black