happiness is mine if it depends on an excursion, on a visit to a
paltry house in Brittany? Why should I fear? Is there anything to
fear? Add to this reasoning of Mrs. Blue-Beard the desire that
nips all women to know if their power is solid or precarious, and
you'll understand how it was that I said one day, with an
unconcerned little air:--

"What sort of place is Les Touches?"

"Les Touches belongs to you," said my divine, dear mother-in-law.

"If Calyste had never set foot in Les Touches!"--cried my aunt
Zephirine, shaking her head.

"He would not be my husband," I added.

"Then you know what happened there?" said my mother-in-law, slyly.

"It is a place of perdition!" exclaimed Mademoiselle de Pen-Hoel.
"Mademoiselle des Touches committed many sins there, for which she
is now asking the pardon of God."

"But they saved the soul of that noble woman, and made the fortune
of a convent," cried the Chevalier du Halga. "The Abbe Grimont
told me she had given a hundred thousand francs to the nuns of the
Visitation."

"Should you like to go to Les Touches?" asked my mother-in-law.
"It is worth seeing."