The result of all this was in a contrary direction to the cause.  Felicite had no inclinations toward evil; she conceived everything by thought, but abstained from deed.  Old Faucombe was enchanted with her, and she helped him in his work,—­writing three of his books, which the worthy old gentleman believed were his own; for his spiritual paternity was blind.  Such mental labor, not agreeing with the developments of girlhood, had its effect.  Felicite fell ill; her blood was overheated, and her chest seemed threatened with inflammation.  The doctors ordered horseback exercise and the amusements of society.  Mademoiselle des Touches became, in consequence, an admirable horsewoman, and recovered her health in a few months.

At the age of eighteen she appeared in the world, where she produced so great a sensation that no one in Nantes called her anything else than “the beautiful Mademoiselle des Touches.”  Led to enter society by one of the imperishable sentiments in the heart of a woman, however superior she may be, the worship she inspired found her cold and unresponsive.  Hurt by her aunt and her cousins, who ridiculed her studies and teased her about her unwillingness for society, which they attributed to a lack of the power of pleasing, Felicite resolved on making herself coquettish, gay, volatile,—­a woman, in short.  But she expected in return an exchange of ideas, seductions, and pleasures in harmony with the elevation of her own mind and the extent of its knowledge.  Instead of that, she was filled with disgust for the commonplaces of conversation, the silliness of gallantry; and more especially was she shocked by the supremacy of military men, to whom society made obeisance at that period.  She had, not unnaturally, neglected the minor accomplishments.  Finding herself inferior to the pretty dolls who played on the piano and made themselves agreeable by singing ballads, she determined to be a musician.  Retiring into her former solitude she set to work resolvedly, under the direction of the best master in the town.  She was rich, and she sent for Steibelt when the time came to perfect herself.  The astonished town still talks of this princely conduct.  The stay of that master cost her twelve thousand francs.  Later, when she went to Paris, she studied harmony and thorough-bass, and composed the music of two operas which have had great success, though the public has never been admitted to the secret of their authorship.  Ostensibly these operas are by Conti, one of the most eminent musicians of our day; but this circumstance belongs to the history of her heart, and will be mentioned later on.