with allegorical paintings and clouds scattered over with stars. The marquise entered this somewhat extraordinary vehicle, sitting opposite to the clerk, who endeavored to put his knees out of the way, afraid even of touching the marquise's dress. It was the clerk, too, who told the coachman, who was very proud of having a marquise to drive, to take the road to St. Mande.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE DOWRY.
Monsieur Faucheux's horses were serviceable animals, with thick knees, and legs which they had some difficulty in moving. Like the carriage, they belonged to the earlier part of the century. They were not as fleet, therefore, as the English horses of M. Fouquet, and consequently took two hours to get to St. Mandé. Their progress, it might be said, was majestic. Majesty, however, precludes hurry. The marquise stopped the carriage at a door well known to her, although she had only seen it once, in a circumstance, it will be remembered, no less painful than that which brought her to it again on the present occasion. She drew a key from her pocket, and inserted it in the lock, pushed open the door, which noiselessly yielded to her touch, and directed the clerk to carry the chest upstairs to the first floor. The weight of the chest was so great that the clerk was obliged to get the coachman to assist him with it. They placed it in a small cabinet, anteroom, or boudoir rather, adjoining the saloon where he once saw M. Fouquet at the marquise's feet. Mme. de Bellière gave the coachman a louis, smiled gracefully at the clerk, and dismissed them both. She closed the door after them and waited in the room, alone and barricaded. There was no servant to be seen about the rooms, but everything was prepared as though some invisible genius had divined the wishes and desires of the guest who was expected. The fire was laid, the candles in the candelabra, refreshments upon the table, books scattered about, fresh-cut flowers in the vases. One might almost have declared it to be an enchanted house. The marquise lighted the candles, inhaled the perfume of the flowers, sat down, and was soon plunged in profound thought. Her deep musings, melancholy though they were, were not untinged with a certain sweetness. Spread
