was the great strength? It was lacking. The close association of Parpon
and Valmond--that was droll; yet, too, it had a sort of fitness, she knew
scarcely why. However, Monsieur was not a fool, in the vulgar sense, for
he had made a friend of a little creature who could be a wasp or a
humming-bird, as he pleased. Then, too, this stranger had conquered her
dear avocat; had won the hearts of the mothers and daughters--her own
servants talked of no one else; had captured this pretty Elise Malboir;
had caused the young men to imitate his walk and retail his sayings;
had won from herself an invitation to visit her; and now had made an
unconscious herald and champion of an innocent old Cure, and set a whole
congregation singing "Vive Napoleon" after mass.

Napoleon? She threw back her pretty head, laughed softly, and fanned
herself. Napoleon? Why, of course there could be no real connection;
the man was an impostor, a base impostor, playing upon the credulities
of a secluded village. Absurd--and interesting! So interesting, she did
not resent the attention given to Valmond, to the exclusion of herself;
though to speak truly, her vanity desired not admiration more than is
inherent in the race of women.

Yet she was very dainty this morning, good to look at, and refreshing,
with everything in flower-like accord; simple in general effect, yet with
touches of the dramatic here and there--in the little black patch on the
delicate health of her cheek, in the seductive arrangements of her laces.
She loved dress, all the vanities, but she had something above it all--an
imaginative mind, certain of whose faculties had been sharpened to a fine
edge of cleverness and wit. For she was but twenty-three; with the logic
of a woman of fifty, without its setness and lack of elasticity. She
went straight for the hearts of things, while yet she glittered upon the
surface. This was why Valmond interested her--not as a man, a physical