gives. The Attaches declared there was nothing of which she was
ignorant; the Contradictors asserted that there was much she ought to
learn; the Observers remarked that her hands were white, her feet
small, her movements a trifle too undulating. But, nevertheless,
individuals of all species envied or disputed Octave's happiness,
agreeing, for once in a way, that Madame Firmiani was the most
aristocratically beautiful woman in Paris.

Still young, rich, a perfect musician, intelligent, witty, refined,
and received (as a Cadignan) by the Princesse de Blamont-Chauvry, that
oracle of the noble faubourg, loved by her rivals the Duchesse de
Maufrigneuse her cousin, the Marquise d'Espard, and Madame de Macumer,
--Madame Firmiani gratified all the vanities which feed or excite
love. She was therefore sought by too many men not to fall a victim to
Parisian malice and its charming calumnies, whispered behind a fan or
in a safe aside. It was necessary to quote the remarks given at the
beginning of this history to bring out the true Firmiani in
contradistinction to the Firmiani of society. If some women forgave
her happiness, others did not forgive her propriety. Now nothing is so
dangerous in Paris as unfounded suspicions,--for the reason that it is
impossible to destroy them.

This sketch of a woman who was admirably natural gives only a faint
idea of her. It would need the pencil of an Ingres to render the pride
of that brow, with its wealth of hair, the dignity of that glance, and
the thoughts betrayed by the changing colors of her cheeks. In her
were all things; poets could have found an Agnes Sorel and a Joan of
Arc, also the woman unknown, the Soul within that form, the soul of
Eve, the knowledge of the treasures of good and the riches of evil,
error and resignation, crime and devotion, the Donna Julia and the