the derelictions of her guests who had been carefully selected by the
duke; indeed, it is surprising how much these excellent women will
tolerate under pretence of bringing the lost sheep back to the fold by
their indulgence.

"We reckoned without our constitutional government," said the grand
equerry; "and Rosembray, Madame la duchesse, will lose a great honor."

"We shall be more at our ease," said a tall thin old man, about
seventy-five years of age, dressed in blue cloth, and wearing his
hunting-cap by permission of the ladies. This personage, who closely
resembled the Duc de Bourbon, was no less than the Prince de Cadignan,
Master of the Hunt, and one of the last of the great French lords.
Just as La Briere was endeavoring to slip behind the sofa and obtain a
moment's intercourse with Modeste, a man of thirty-eight, short, fat,
and very common in appearance, entered the room.

"My son, the Prince de Loudon," said the Duchesse de Verneuil to
Modeste, who could not restrain the expression of amazement that
overspread her young face on seeing the man who bore the historical
name that the hero of La Vendee had rendered famous by his bravery and
the martyrdom of his death.

"Gaspard," said the duchess, calling her son to her. The young prince
came at once, and his mother continued, motioning to Modeste,
"Mademoiselle de La Bastie, my friend."

The heir presumptive, whose marriage with Desplein's only daughter had
lately been arranged, bowed to the young girl without seeming struck,
as his father had been, with her beauty. Modeste was thus enabled to