“Diane told me that Leontine went to the prison,” Madame d’Espard went on.  “The dear Duchess is in despair at such a scandal, for she is so foolish as to be very fond of Madame de Serizy; however, it is comprehensible:  they both adored that little fool Lucien at about the same time, and nothing so effectually binds or severs two women as worshiping at the same altar.  And our dear friend spent two hours yesterday in Leontine’s room.  The poor Countess, it seems, says dreadful things!  I heard that it was disgusting!  A woman of rank ought not to give way to such attacks.—­Bah!  A purely physical passion.—­The Duchess came to see me as pale as death; she really was very brave.  There are monstrous things connected with this business.”

“My husband will tell the Keeper of the Seals all he knows for his own justification, for they wanted to save Lucien, and he, Madame la Marquise, did his duty.  An examining judge always has to question people in private at the time fixed by law!  He had to ask the poor little wretch something, if only for form’s sake, and the young fellow did not understand, and confessed things——­”

“He was an impertinent fool!” said Madame d’Espard in a hard tone.

The judge’s wife kept silence on hearing this sentence.

“Though we failed in the matter of the Commission in Lunacy, it was not Camusot’s fault, I shall never forget that,” said the Marquise after a pause.  “It was Lucien, Monsieur de Serizy, Monsieur de Bauvan, and Monsieur de Granville who overthrew us.  With time God will be on my side; all those people will come to grief.—­Be quite easy, I will send the Chevalier d’Espard to the Keeper of the Seals that he may desire your husbands’s presence immediately, if that is of any use.”

“Oh! madame——­”

“Listen,” said the Marquise.  “I promise you the ribbon of the Legion of Honor at once—­to-morrow.  It will be a conspicuous testimonial of satisfaction with your conduct in this affair.  Yes, it implies further blame on Lucien; it will prove him guilty.  Men do not commonly hang themselves for the pleasure of it.—­Now, good-bye, my pretty dear——­”

Ten minutes later Madame Camusot was in the bedroom of the beautiful Diane de Maufrigneuse, who had not gone to bed till one, and at nine o’clock had not yet slept.

However insensible duchesses may be, even these women, whose hearts are of stone, cannot see a friend a victim to madness without being painfully impressed by it.

And besides, the connection between Diane and Lucien, though at an end now eighteen months since, had left such memories with the Duchess that the poor boy’s disastrous end had been to her also a fearful blow.  All night Diane had seen visions of the beautiful youth, so charming, so poetical, who had been so delightful a lover—­painted as Leontine depicted him, with the vividness of wild delirium.  She had letters from Lucien that she had kept, intoxicating