and insignificant, they stare.  They believe he married me for my fortune:  then I wish to cry.  We reenter the carriage, he smiles upon me, and I am in heaven!  Such are our visits.

“You must know, my mother, that to me Madame Campvallon is divine.  She often takes me to her box at the Italiens, as mine will not be vacant until January.  Yesterday she gave a little fete for me in her beautiful salon:  the General opened the ball with me.

   “Oh! my mother, what a wonderfully clever man the General is!  And I
   admire him because he admires you!

“The Marquise presented to me all the best dancers.  They were young gentlemen, with their necks so uncovered it almost gave me a chill.  I never before had seen men bare-necked and the fashion is not becoming.  It was very evident, however, that they considered themselves indispensable and charming.  Their deportment was insolent and self-sufficient; their eyes were disdainful and all-conquering.

“Their mouths ever open to breathe freer, their coat-tails flapping like wings, they take one by the waist—­as one takes his own property.  Informing you by a look that they are about to do you the honor of removing you, they whirl you away; then, panting for breath, inform you by another look that they will do themselves the pleasure of stopping—­and they stop.  Then they rest a moment, panting, laughing, showing their teeth; another look—­and they repeat the same performance.  They are wonderful!

   “Louis waltzed with me and seemed satisfied.  I saw him for the
   first time waltz with the Marquise.  Oh, my mother, it was the dance
   of the stars!

“One thing which struck me this evening, as always, was the manifest idolatry with which the women regard my husband.  This, my tender mother, terrifies me.  Why—­I ask myself—­why did he choose me?  How can I please him?  How can I succeed?

   “Behold the result of all my meditations!  A folly perhaps, but of
   which the effect is to reassure me: 

   “Portrait of the Comtesse de Camors, drawn by herself.

“The Comtesse de Camors, formerly Marie de Tecle, is a personage who, having reached her twentieth year, looks older.  She is not beautiful, as her husband is the first person to confess.  He says she is pretty; but she doubts even this.  Let us see.  She has very long limbs, a fault which she shares with Diana, the Huntress, and which probably gives to the gait of the Countess a lightness it might not otherwise possess.  Her body is naturally short, and on horseback appears to best advantage.  She is plump without being gross.

“Her features are irregular; the mouth being too large and the lips too thick, with—­alas! the shade of a moustache; white teeth, a little too small; a commonplace nose, a slightly pug; and her mother’s eyes—­her best feature.