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play of the eyes； in which could be discerned the expression
peculiar to women of the old Court； an expression that cannot be
defined in words。 Those fine and mobile features might quite as
well indicate bad feelings； and suggest astuteness and womanly
artifice carried to a high pitch of wickedness； as reveal the
refined delicacy of a beautiful soul。
Indeed； the face of a woman has this element of mystery to puzzle
the ordinary observer； that the difference between frankness and
duplicity； the genius for intrigue and the genius of the heart；
is there inscrutable。 A man gifted with the penetrating eye can
read the intangible shade of difference produced by a more or
less curved line； a more or less deep dimple； a more or less
prominent feature。 The appreciation of these indications lies
entirely in the domain of intuition； this alone can lead to the
discovery of what everyone is interested in concealing。 The old
lady's face was like the room she inhabited； it seemed as
difficult to detect whether this squalor covered vice or the
highest virtue； as to decide whether Adelaide's mother was an old
coquette accustomed to weigh； to calculate； to sell everything；
or a loving woman； full of noble feeling and amiable qualities。
But at Schinner's age the first impulse of the heart is to
believe in goodness。 And indeed； as he studied Adelaide's noble
and almost haughty brow； as he looked into her eyes full of soul
and thought； he breathed； so to speak； the sweet and modest
fragrance of virtue。 In the course of the conversation he seized
an opportunity of discussing portraits in general； to give
himself a pretext for examining the frightful pastel； of which
the color had flown； and the chalk in many places fallen away。
〃You are attached to that picture for the sake of the likeness；
no doubt； mesdames； for the drawing is dreadful？〃 he said；
looking at Adelaide。
〃It was done at Calcutta； in great haste；〃 replied the mother in
an agitated voice。
She gazed at the formless sketch with the deep absorption which
memories of happiness produce when they are roused and fall on
the heart like a beneficent dew to whose refreshing touch we love
to yield ourselves up； but in the expression of the old lady's
face there were traces too of perennial regret。 At least； it was
thus that the painter chose to interpret her attitude and
countenance； and he presently sat down again by her side。
〃Madame；〃 he said； 〃in a very short time the colors of that
pastel will have disappeared。 The portrait will only survive in
your memory。 Where you will still see the face that is dear to
you； others will see nothing at all。 Will you allow me to
reproduce the likeness on canvas？ It will be more permanently
recorded then than on that sheet of paper。 Grant me； I beg； as a
neighborly favor； the pleasure of doing you this service。 There
are times when an artist is glad of a respite from his greater
undertakings by doing work of less lofty pretensions； so it will
be a recreation for me to paint that head。〃
The old lady flushed as she heard the painter's words； and
Adelaide shot one of those glances of deep feeling which seem to
flash from the soul。 Hippolyte wanted to feel some tie linking
him with his two neighbors； to conquer a right to mingle in their
life。 His offer； appealing as it did to the liveliest affections
of the heart； was the only one he could possibly make； it
gratified his pride as an artist； and could not hurt the feelings
of the ladies。 Madame Leseigneur accepted； without eagerness or
reluctance； but with the self…possession of a noble soul； fully
aware of the character of bonds formed by such an obligation；
while； at the same time； they are its highest glory as a proof of
esteem。
〃I fancy；〃 said the painter； 〃that the uniform is that of a naval
officer。〃
Yes；〃 she said； 〃that of a captain in command of a vessel。
Monsieur de Rouvillemy husbanddied at Batavia in consequence
of a wound received in a fight with an English ship they fell in
with off the Asiatic coast。 He commanded a frigate of fifty…six
guns and the Revenge carried ninety…six。 The struggle was very
unequal； but he defended his ship so bravely that he held out
till nightfall and got away。 When I came back to France Bonaparte
was not yet in power； and I was refused a pension。 When I applied
again for it； quite lately； I was sternly informed that if the
Baron de Rouville had emigrated I should not have lost him； that
by this time he would have been a rear…admiral； finally； his
Excellency quoted I know not what degree of forfeiture。 I took
this step； to which I was urged by my friends； only for the sake
of my poor Adelaide。 I have always hated the idea of holding out
my hand as a beggar in the name of a grief which deprives a woman
of voice and strength。 I do not like this money valuation for
blood irreparably spilt〃
〃Dear mother； this subject always does you harm。〃
In response to this remark from Adelaide； the Baronne Leseigneur
bowed； and was silent。
〃Monsieur；〃 said the young girl to Hippolyte； 〃I had supposed
that a painter's work was generally fairly quiet？〃
At this question Schinner colored； remembering the noise he had
made。 Adelaide said no more； and spared him a falsehood by rising
at the sound of a carriage stopping at the door。 She went into
her own room； and returned carrying a pair of tall gilt
candlesticks with partly burnt wax candles； which she quickly
lighted； and without waiting for the bell to ring； she opened the
door of the outer room； where she set the lamp down。 The sound of
a kiss given and received found an echo in Hippolyte's heart。 The
young man's impatience to see the man who treated Adelaide with
so much familiarity was not immediately gratified； the newcomers
had a conversation； which he thought very long； in an undertone；
with the young girl。
At last Mademoiselle de Rouville returned； followed by two men；
whose costume； countenance； and appearance are a long story。
The first； a man of about sixty； wore one of the coats invented；
I believe； for Louis XVIII。； then on the throne； in which the
most difficult problem of the sartorial art had been solved by a
tailor who ought to be immortal。 That artist certainly understood
the art of compromise； which was the moving genius of that period
of shifting politics。 Is it not a rare merit to be able to take
the measure of the time？ This coat； which the young men of the
present day may conceive to be fabulous； was neither civil nor
military； and might pass for civil or military by turns。 Fleurs…
de…lis were embroidered on the lapels of the back skirts。 The
gilt buttons also bore fleurs…de…lis； on the shoulders a pair of
straps cried out for useless epaulettes； these military
appendages were there like a petition without a recommendation。
This old gentleman's coat was of dark blue cloth； and the
buttonhole had blossomed into many colored ribbons。 He； no doubt；
always carried his hat in his handa three cornered cocked hat；
with a gold cordfor the snowy wings of his powdered hair showed
not a trace of its pressure。 He might have been taken for not
more than fifty years of age； and seemed to enjoy robust health。
While wearing the frank and loyal expression of the old emigres；
his countenance also hinted at the easy habits of a libertine； at
the light and reckless passions of the Musketeers formerly so
famous in the annals of gallantry。 His gestures； his attitude；
and his manner proclaimed that he had no intention of correcting
himself of his royalism； of his religion； or of his love affairs。
A really fantastic figure came in behind this specimen of 〃Louis
XIV。's light infantry〃a nickname given by the Bonapartists to
these venerable survivors of the Monarchy。 To do it justice it
ought to be made the principal object in the picture； and it is
but an accessory。 Imagine a lean； dry man； dressed like the
former； but seeming to be only his reflection； or his shadow； if
you will。 The coat； new on the first； on the second was old； the
powder in his hair looked less white； the gold of the fleurs…de…
lis less bright； the shoulder straps more hopeless and dog's
eared； his intellect seemed more feeble； his life nearer the
fatal term than in the former。 In short； he realized Rivarol's
witticism on Champcenetz； 〃He is the moonlight of me。〃 He was
simply his double； a paler and poorer double； for there was
between them all the difference that lies between the first and
last impressions of a lithograph。
This speechless old man was a mystery to the painter； and always
remained a mystery。 The Chevalier； for he was a Chevalier； did
not speak； nobody spoke to him。 Was he a friend； a poor relation；
a man who followed at the old gallant's heels as a lady companion
does at an old lady's？ Did he fill a place midway between a dog；
a parrot； and a friend？ Had he saved his patron's fo