A last glance in a mirror completed the excellent opinion that
Florestan had of himself.
The valet opened the folding doors of the saloon, and announced, "His lordship the Viscount de Saint Remy."
The astonishment and indignation of the duchess were indescribable. She thought the count must have told his son that she also had overheard all.
We have said before, that, on learning the infamy of Florestan, the love of Madame de Lucenay was at once changed into utter disdain.
Being engaged out that evening, she was, although without diamonds, dressed with her usual taste and magnificence: this splendid toilet; the rouge which she wore boldly; her beauty, quite striking at night; her figure of "the goddess sailing on clouds," rendered still more striking a dignity, which no one possessed more than she did, and which she pushed, when it was necessary, to a most superlative haughtiness.
The proud, determined character of the duchess is known to the reader; let him imagine her look, when the viscount, smiling, advanced toward her, and said in loving tones, "My dear Clotilde, how kind you are! how much you——" The viscount could not finish.
The duchess was seated, and had not stirred; but her actions, the glance of her eye, revealed a contempt at once so calm and so withering, that Florestan stopped short. He could not say a word, or make a step in advance. Never had Madame de Lucenay conducted herself thus toward him. He could not believe it to be the same woman whom he had always found so tender and affectionate. His first surprise over, Florestan was ashamed of his weakness; he resumed his habitual audacity; making a step toward Madame de Lucenay to take her hand, he said to her in the most caressing manner, "Clotilde, how is this? I have never seen you so handsome, and yet—"
"Oh! this is too impudent!" cried the duchess, recoiling with such unequivocal disgust and pride, that Florestan once more was surprised and confounded.
However, assuming a little assurance, he said to her: "You will inform me, at least, Clotilde, the cause of this sudden change? What have I done? What do you wish?"
Without replying to him, Madame de Lucenay looked at him from head to foot, with an expression so insulting that Florestan felt the flush of resentment mount to his forehead, and he cried, "I know, madame, you are habitually very hasty in your ruptures. Is it a rupture you wish?"