herself, she does not wound the vanity of others; she accepts men as
God made them; pitying the vicious, forgiving defects and absurdities,
comprehending all ages, and vexed by nothing, because she has had the
sense and tact to foresee all. Tender and gay, she gratifies before
she consoles. You love her so well that if this angel did wrong you
would be ready to excuse her. If, for your happiness, you have met
with such a woman, you know Madame Firmiani.

After Monsieur de Bourbonne had talked with her for ten minutes,
sitting beside her, his nephew was forgiven. He perceived that
whatever the actual truth might be, the relation between Madame
Firmiani and Octave covered some mystery. Returning to the illusions
that gild the days of youth, and judging Madame Firmiani by her
beauty, the old gentleman became convinced that a woman so innately
conscious of her dignity as she appeared to be was incapable of a bad
action. Her dark eyes told of inward peace; the lines of her face were
so noble, the profile so pure, and the passion he had come to
investigate seemed so little to oppress her heart, that the old man
said to himself, while noting all the promises of love and virtue
given by that adorable countenance, "My nephew is committing some
folly."

Madame Firmiani acknowledged to twenty-five. But the Practicals proved
that having married the invisible Firmiani (then a highly respectable
individual in the forties) in 1813, at the age of sixteen, she must be
at least twenty-eight in 1825. However the same persons also asserted
that at no period of her life had she ever been so desirable or so
completely a woman. She was now at an age when women are most prone to
conceive a passion, and to desire it, perhaps, in their pensive hours.
She possessed all that earth sells, all that it lends, all that it