[CHAPTER XVIII.]
THE COUNTESS OF BEARN.
A hackney coach stopping at the doorway of Chancellor Maupeou, president of Parliament, induced the porter to deign to stalk out to the door of the vehicle and see why the way was thus blocked.
He saw an old lady in an antiquated costume. She was thin and bony but active, with cat's eyes rolling under gray brows. But poverty stricken though she appeared, the porter showed respect as he asked her name.
"I am the Countess of Bearn," she replied; "but I fear that I shall not have the fortune to find his lordship at home."
"My lord is receiving," answered the janitor. "That is, he will receive your ladyship."
The old lady stepped out of the carriage, wondering if she did not dream, while the porter gave two jerks to a bellrope. An usher came to the portals, where the first servant motioned that the visitor might enter.
"If your ladyship desires speech with the lord high chancellor," said the usher, "step this way, please."
"They do speak ill of this official," uttered the lady; "but he has the good trait that he is easily accessible. But it is strange that so high an officer of the law should have open doors."
Chancellor Maupeou, buried in an enormous wig and clad in black velvet, was writing in his study, where the door was open.