compare the youth of to-day with the old age of a past epoch; for the
old Prince de Cadignan had already said a few words which made her
feel that he rendered as true a homage to womanhood as to royalty. The
Duc de Rhetore, the eldest son of the Duchesse de Chaulieu, chiefly
remarkable for manners that were equally impertinent and free and
easy, bowed to Modeste rather cavalierly. The reason of this contrast
between the fathers and the sons is to be found, probably, in the fact
that young men no longer feel themselves great beings, as their
forefathers did, and they dispense with the duties of greatness,
knowing well that they are now but the shadow of it. The fathers
retain the inherent politeness of their vanished grandeur, like the
mountain-tops still gilded by the sun when all is twilight in the
valley.

Ernest was at last able to slip a word into Modeste's ear, and she
rose immediately.

"My dear," said the duchesse, thinking she was going to dress, and
pulling a bell-rope, "they shall show you your apartment."

Ernest accompanied Modeste to the foot of the grand staircase,
presenting the request of the luckless poet, and endeavoring to touch
her feelings by describing Melchior's agony.

"You see, he loves--he is a captive who thought he could break his
chain."

"Love in such a rapid seeker after fortune!" retorted Modeste.

"Mademoiselle, you are at the entrance of life; you do not know its