are apt to think the situation close; but in those
days it was the height of fashion; for, the great
arbiter of fashion, the Due de Richelieu, lived
there, and, to inhabit an apartment in that
street, was in itself a mark of bon ton. Victorine
seemed almost crazy with delight when they
took possession of their new abode. " This dear
Paris! This lovely France! And now I see my
young lady, my darling, my angel, in a room
suited to her beauty and her rank: such as my
lady her mother would have planned for her, if
she had lived." Any allusion to her dead
mother always touched Theresa to the quick.
She was in her bed, under the blue silk curtains
of an alcove, when Victorine said this,—being
too much fatigued after her journey to respond
to Victorine's rhapsodies; but now she put out
her little hand and gave Victorine's a pressure
of gratitude and pleasure. Next day she
wandered about the rooms and admired their splendour
almost to Victorine's content. Her father,
Sir Mark, found a handsome carriage and
horses for his darling's use; and also found that
not less necessary article—a married lady of
rank who would take his girl under her wing.
When all these preliminary arrangements were
made, who so wildly happy as Theresa! Her
carriage was of the newest fashion, fit to
vie with any on the Cours de la Reine, the
then fashionable drive. The box at the Grand
Opéra, and at the Français, which she shared
with Madame la Duchesse de G., was the centre
of observation; Victorine was in her best
humour, Theresa's credit at her dressmaker's
was unlimited, her indulgent father was charmed
with all she did and said. She had masters, it
is true; but, to a rich and beautiful young lady,
masters were wonderfully complaisant, and with
them as with all the world, she did what she
pleased. Of Parisian society, she had enough
and more than enough. The duchess went
everywhere, and Theresa went too. So did a certain
Count de la Grange: some relation or
connexion of the duchess: handsome, with a south
of France handsomeness: with delicate features,
marred by an over-softness of expression, from
which (so men said) the tiger was occasionally
seen to peep forth. But, for elegance of dress and
demeanour he had not his fellow in Paris—which
of course meant, not in the world.

Sir Mark heard rumours of this man's conduct,
which, were not pleasing to him; but when he
accompanied his daughter into society, the count
was only as deferential as it became a gentleman
to be to so much beauty and grace. When
Theresa was taken out by the duchess to the
opera, to balls, to petits soupers, without her
father, then the count was more than deferential;
he was adoring. It was a little intoxicating
for a girl brought up in the solitude of an
English village, to have so many worshippers at
her feet all at once, in the great gay city; and
the inbred coquetry of her nature came out,
adding to her outward grace, if taking away
from the purity and dignity of her character.
It was Victorine's delight to send her darling
out arrayed for conquest; her hair delicately
powdered, and scented with maréchale; her little
"mouches" put on with skill; the tiny half-moon
patch, to lengthen the already almond-shaped
eye; the minute star to give the effect of a
dimple at the corner of her scarlet lips; the
silver gauze looped up over the petticoat of
blue brocade, distended over a hoop, much as
*owns are worn in our days; the coral
ornaments of her silver dress, matching with the tint
of the high heels to her shoes. And, at night,
Victorine was never tired of listening and
questioning; of triumphing in Theresa's triumphs;
of invariably reminding her that she was bound
to marry the absent cousin, and return to the
half-feudal state of the old castle in Sussex.

Still, even now, if Duke had returned from
Italy, all might have gone well; but when Sir
Mark, alarmed by the various proposals he
received for Theresa's hand from needy French
noblemen, and by the admiration she was
exciting everywhere, wrote to Duke, and urged
him to join them in Paris on his return from
his travels, Duke answered that three months
were yet unexpired of the time allotted for
the grand tour; and that he was anxious
to avail himself of that interval to see
something of Spain. Sir Mark read this letter
aloud to Theresa, with many expressions of
annoyance as he read. Theresa merely said, " Of
course, Duke does what he likes," and turned
away to see some new lace brought for her
inspection. She heard her father sigh over a
reperusal of Duke's letter, and she set her teeth
in the anger she would not show in acts or
words. That day the Count de Grange met
with gentler treatment from her than he had
done for many days—than he had done since
her father's letter to Duke had been sent off to
Genoa. As ill fortune would have it, Sir Mark
had occasion to return to England at this time,
and he, guileless himself, consigned Theresa and
her maid Victorine, and her man Felix, to the
care of the duchess for three weeks. They were
to reside at the Hotel de G. during this time.
The duchess welcomed them in her most caressing
manner, and showed Theresa the suite of
rooms, with the little private staircase,
appropriated to her use.

The Count de Grange was an habitual visitor
at the house of his cousin the duchess, who was
a gay Parisian, absorbed in her life of giddy
dissipation. The count found means of influencing
Victorine in his favour; not by money; so
coarse a bribe would have had no power over
her; but by many presents, accompanied with
sentimental letters, breathing devotion to her
charge, and extremest appreciation of the faithful
friend whom Theresa looked upon as a
mother, and whom for this reason he, the
count, revered and loved. Intermixed, were
wily allusions to his great possessions in
Provence, and to his ancient lineage:—the one
mortgaged, the other disgraced. Victorine,
whose right hand had forgotten its cunning in
the length of her dreary vegetation at Crowley
Castle, was deceived, and became a vehement
advocate of the dissolute Adonis of the Paris