Pride: One of the Seven Cardinal Sins. Эжен Сю

seat was always reserved for her. It was the same at the races, and in the frequent visits to the seashore and other fashionable watering-places. Her protégés rented a house, and sent down chefs, servants, and horses and carriages, and in these admirably appointed establishments Madame de la Rochaiguë kept open house for her friends.

      So insatiable is the longing for pleasure in society, even the most fashionable society, that, instead of revolting at the idea of a woman of noble birth devoting herself to the shameful robbing of these unfortunate people whose foolish vanity was leading them on to ruin, society flattered Madame de la Rochaiguë, the dispenser of all this lavish hospitality, and the lady herself was not a little proud of the advantages she derived from her patronage; besides being clever, witty, shrewd, and remarkably self-possessed, Madame de la Rochaiguë was one of the seven or eight brilliant women who exerted a real influence over what is known as Parisian society.

      The three persons above referred to were engaged in adding the finishing touches to a spacious suite of superbly appointed apartments that occupied the entire first floor of a mansion in the Faubourg St. Germain.

      M. and Madame de la Rochaiguë had relinquished these rooms and established themselves on the second floor, a part of which was occupied by Mlle. de la Rochaiguë, while the rest had heretofore served as quarters for the baron's daughter and son-in-law, when they left their estates, where they resided most of the year, for a two months' sojourn in Paris.

      These formerly rather dilapidated and very parsimoniously furnished apartments had been entirely renovated and superbly decorated for Mlle. Ernestine de Beaumesnil, whose health had become sufficiently restored to admit of her return to France, and who was expected to arrive from Italy that very day, accompanied by her governess, and a sort of steward or courier whom M. de la Rochaiguë had despatched to Naples to bring the orphan home.

      The extreme care which the baron and his wife and sister were bestowing on the arrangement of the rooms was almost ludicrous, so plainly did it show the intense eagerness and obsequiousness with which Mlle. de Beaumesnil was awaited, though there was something almost depressing in the thought that all this splendour was for a mere child of sixteen, who seemed likely to be almost lost in these immense rooms.

      After a final survey of the apartments, M. de la Rochaiguë summoned all the servants, and, seeing a fine opportunity for a speech, uttered the following memorable words with all his wonted majesty of demeanour:

      "I here assemble my people together, to say, declare, and signify to them that Mlle. de Beaumesnil, my cousin and ward, is expected to arrive this evening. I desire also to say to them that Madame de la Rochaiguë and myself intend, desire, and wish that our people should obey Mlle. de Beaumesnil's orders even more scrupulously than our own. In other words, I desire to say to our people that anything and everything Mlle. de Beaumesnil may say, order, or command, they are to obey as implicitly, unhesitatingly, and blindly as if the order had been given by Madame de la Rochaiguë or myself. I count upon the zeal, intelligence, and exactitude of my people in this particular, and we shall reward handsomely all who manifest hearty good-will, solicitude, and unremitting zeal in Mlle. de Beaumesnil's service."

      After this eloquent adjuration the servants were dismissed, and the cooks were ordered to have everything in readiness to serve either a hot or cold repast in case Mlle. de Beaumesnil should desire something to eat on her arrival.

      These preparations concluded, Madame de la Rochaiguë suggested to her husband that they go up to their own apartments.

      "I was about to make the same proposition to you," responded M. de la Rochaiguë, smiling, and showing his long teeth with the most affable air imaginable.

      As the baron and baroness and Mlle. de la Rochaiguë were leaving the apartment, a servant stepped up to M. de la Rochaiguë, and said:

      "There is a young woman here who wishes to speak with madame."

      "Who is she?"

      "She did not give her name. She came to return something belonging to the late Comtesse de Beaumesnil."

      "Admit her," said the baroness.

      Then, turning to her husband and sister-in-law, she said:

      "I wonder who it can be?"

      "I haven't the slightest idea, but we shall soon know."

      "Some claim on the estate, probably," remarked the baroness. "It should have been sent to the notary."

      Almost at the same instant the servant opened the door, and announced:

      "Mademoiselle Herminie."

      Though beautiful under any and all circumstances, the lovely face of the "duchess," wan from the profound grief caused by the death of her mother, wore an expression of intense sadness. Her lovely golden hair, which she usually wore in long curls, was wound smoothly around her head, for, in her bitter sorrow, the poor child for the last two months had entirely forgotten the innocent vanities of youth. Another trivial but highly significant detail, – Herminie's white and beautifully shaped hands were bare; the shabby little gloves so often and carefully mended were no longer wearable, and her increasing poverty would not permit her to purchase others.

      Yes, her poverty, for, wounded to the heart by her mother's death, and dangerously ill for six weeks, the young girl had been unable to give the music lessons which were her only means of support, and her little store of savings had been swallowed up in the expenses of her illness, so, while waiting for the pay for the lessons resumed only a few days before, Herminie had been obliged to pawn some silver purchased in an hour of affluence, and on the paltry sum thus obtained she was now living with a parsimony which want alone can teach.

      On seeing this pale but beautiful girl, whose clothing indicated extreme poverty, in spite of its scrupulous neatness, the baron and his wife exchanged glances of surprise.

      "I am Madame de la Rochaiguë, mademoiselle," said the baroness. "What can I do for you?"

      "I came, madame, to rectify a mistake," replied Herminie, blushing deeply, "and return this five hundred franc note which was sent to me by – by the late Madame de Beaumesnil's notary."

      In spite of her courage, Herminie felt the tears rush to her eyes on uttering her mother's name, but making a violent effort to conquer her emotion, she held out the bank-note enclosed in an envelope, bearing this address:

For Mlle. Herminie,Singing Teacher

      "Ah, yes, it was you, mademoiselle, who used to play and sing for Madame de Beaumesnil."

      "Yes, madame."

      "I recollect now that the family council decided that five hundred francs should be sent to you for your services. It was considered that this amount – "

      "Would be a suitable, sufficient, and satisfactory remuneration," added the baron, sententiously.

      "And if it is not, the complaint should be made to the notary, not to us," added the baroness.

      "I have come, madame," said Herminie, gently but proudly, "to return the money. I have been paid."

      No one present realised or could realise the bitter sorrow hidden in these words:

      "I have been paid."

      But Herminie's dignity and disinterestedness, a disinterestedness which the shabby garments of the young girl rendered the more remarkable, made a deep impression on Madame de la Rochaiguë, and she said:

      "Really, mademoiselle, I can not praise too highly this delicacy and keen sense of honour on your part. The family did not know that you had been paid, but," added the baroness, hesitatingly, for Herminie's air of quiet dignity impressed her not a little, – "but I – I feel that I may, in the name of the family, beg you to keep this five hundred francs – as – as a gift."

      And the baroness held out the bank-note to the young girl, casting another quick glance at her shabby garments as she did so.

      Again a blush of wounded pride mounted to Herminie's brow, but it is impossible to describe the perfect courtesy and proud simplicity with which the girl replied:

      "Will you, madame, kindly reserve this generous gift for the many persons who must appeal to you for charity."

      Then,