in a blond wig frizzed into little curls, whose calm, plump, smooth
face wore a fatherly smile and an expression of monastic cheerfulness
which the half-veiled glance of the eye rendered almost noble. This
was the Duc de Verneuil, master of Rosembray. The duchess, a woman of
extreme piety, the only daughter of a rich and deceased chief-justice,
spare and erect, and the mother of four children, resembled Madame
Latournelle,--if the imagination can go so far as to adorn the
notary's wife with the graces of a bearing that was truly abbatial.

"Ah, good morning, dear Hortense!" said Mademoiselle d'Herouville,
kissing the duchess with the sympathy that united their haughty
natures; "let me present to you and to the dear duke our little angel,
Mademoiselle de La Bastie."

"We have heard so much of you, mademoiselle," said the duchess, "that
we were in haste to receive you."

"And regret the time lost," added the Duc de Verneuil, with courteous
admiration.

"Monsieur le Comte de La Bastie," said the grand equerry, taking the
colonel by the arm and presenting him to the duke and duchess, with an
air of respect in his tone and gesture.

"I am glad to welcome you, Monsieur le comte!" said Monsieur de
Verneuil. "You possess more than one treasure," he added, looking at
Modeste.

The duchess took Modeste under her arm and led her into an immense
salon, where a dozen or more women were grouped about the fireplace.