"Armand, have you a double in these parts?"
"Not that I am aware of," responded her husband tranquilly, without looking up from the apple that he was peeling. "Why?"
"Because, when I went over to St. Clair this afternoon, I saw someone so like you in the distance, and of course it could not have been you—unless you changed your mind, and did not go to M. des Charnières after all."
"I do not know who it could have been, but it certainly was not I," responded Armand, the apple-paring steadily growing in length. "So you went to see Madame de Vigerie this afternoon?"
"I went, but I did not see her. She was not receiving. Tell me about your visit to M. des Charnières."
"It was not a success," returned the emissary, shrugging his shoulders. "The old gentleman is not going to part with his money for anything less than absolute certainty. He is of a meanness that leads him into curious extravagances. Conceive, ma chère, that when he goes to Paris, he so hates paying hotel bills that he has bought and furnished a house at each of the stages. Of course he has had to instal servants also, but he can bear all that better than paying at the time for a night's board and lodging. He received me politely enough, in the only living-room of the château that he occupies, and, taking snuff the whole time, he detailed to me the various reasons why the Regent could never succeed in her attempt. I shall not waste my energies over him again."
(3)
The long mirror in Madame de Vigerie's salon, which terminated not far from the floor in a marble shelf supported on curved legs, held the reflections of a Psyche in marble, many thin-legged gilt chairs, a fête champêtre after Watteau, and of two persons seated, pen in hand, on opposite sides of a chilly inlaid table, and sedulously bent over sheets of paper. The scribes were the mistress of the house and Armand de la Roche-Guyon, and for at least an hour they had been copying a list of the names of persons willing to bear arms for the Duchesse de Berry in the Pontivy division.
The Comte finished his task the first, but Madame de Vigerie, following with one taper finger the roll of names, proceeded with hers for a few moments longer, though she could scarcely have been unconscious that the young man opposite, leaning back in his chair, was gazing at her in a manner not specially suggestive of political absorption.
At last she too came to the end.