Madame de la Rochejacquelin [Footnote: Widow of the Vendean hero.]--She
had just arrived from the country, and we found ourselves in a large
hotel, in which all the winds of heaven were blowing, and in which, as
we went upstairs and crossed the ante-chambers, all was darkness, except
one candle which the servant carried before us. In a small bedroom, well
furnished, with a fire just lighted, we found Madame de la
Rochejacquelin lying on a sofa--her two daughters at work--one spinning
with a distaff, and the other embroidering muslin. Madame is a large fat
woman, with a broad round fair face, with a most open benevolent
expression, as benevolent as Molly Bristow's or as Mrs. Brinkley's. Her
hair cut short, and perfectly gray, as seen under her cap; the rest of
her face much too young for such gray locks, not at all the hard
weatherbeaten look that had been described to us; and though her face
and bundled form and dress, all _squashed_ on a sofa, did not at first
promise much of gentility, you could not hear her speak or see her for
three minutes without perceiving that she was well-born and well-bred.
She had hurt her leg, which was the cause of her lying on the sofa. It
seemed a grievous penance, as she is of as active a temper as ever. She
says her health is perfect, but a nervous disease in her eyes has nearly
deprived her of sight--she could hardly see my face, though I sat as
close as I could go to the sofa.

"I am always sorry," said she, "when any stranger sees me, parceque je
sais que je detruis toute illusion. Je sais que je devrais avoir l'air
d'une heroine, et surtout que je devrais avoir l'air malheureuse ou
epuise an moins--rien de tout cela, helas!"

She is much better than a heroine--she is benevolence and truth itself.
She begged her daughters to take us into the _salon_ to show us what she