The nature of her beauty has not been without its influence on her fame; it has served it, just as her fortune and position have maintained her in society.  If a sculptor desires to make a statue of Brittany let him take Mademoiselle des Touches for his model.  That full-blooded, powerful temperament is the only nature capable of repelling the action of time.  The constant nourishment of the pulp, so to speak, of that polished skin is an arm given to women by Nature to resist the invasion of wrinkles; in Camille’s case it was aided by the calm impassibility of her features.

In 1817 this charming young woman opened her house to artists, authors of renown, learned and scientific men, and publicists,—­a society toward which her tastes led her.  Her salon resembled that of Baron Gerard, where men of rank mingled with men of distinction of all kinds, and the elite of Parisian women came.  The parentage of Mademoiselle des Touches, and her fortune, increased by that of her aunt the nun, protected her in the attempt, always very difficult in Paris, to create a society.  Her worldly independence was one reason of her success.  Various ambitious mothers indulged in the hope of inducing her to marry their sons, whose fortunes were out of proportion to the age of their escutcheons.  Several peers of France, allured by the prospect of eighty thousand francs a year and a house magnificently appointed, took their womenkind, even the most fastidious and intractable, to visit her.  The diplomatic world, always in search of amusements of the intellect, came there and found enjoyment.  Thus Mademoiselle des Touches, surrounded by so many forms of individual interests, was able to study the different comedies which passion, covetousness, and ambition make the generality of men perform,—­even those who are highest in the social scale.  She saw, early in life, the world as it is; and she was fortunate enough not to fall early into absorbing love, which warps the mind and faculties of a woman and prevents her from judging soberly.

Ordinarily a woman feels, enjoys, and judges, successively; hence three distinct ages, the last of which coincides with the mournful period of old age.  In Mademoiselle des Touches this order was reversed.  Her youth was wrapped in the snows of knowledge and the ice of reflection.  This transposition is, in truth, an additional explanation of the strangeness of her life and the nature of her talent.  She observed men at an age when most women can only see one man; she despised what other women admired; she detected falsehood in the flatteries they accept as truths; she laughed at things that made them serious.  This contradiction of her life with that of others lasted long; but it came to a terrible end; she was destined to find in her soul a first love, young and fresh, at an age when women are summoned by Nature to renounce all love.