Mademoiselle de Mongarcin could not ask for more liberty or greater power; the confidence that her aunt manifested in her pleased her; she would have rebelled against a stern affection that would have tried to guide her, but she was amiable and affectionate with one who was simply indifferent to her.
Young Valentine considered the old hangings of the Hôtel de Mongarcin gloomy and repellent; she had them all changed or renewed, and the furniture as well. But nothing was disturbed in the apartment occupied by Madame de Ravenelle. Some of the servants having failed to carry out the girl's orders quickly enough, she dismissed them and engaged others; but her aunt's maid and her old male attendant were outside of her authority.
The Hôtel de Mongarcin became more fashionable; it assumed a more youthful, a gayer aspect; frequent entertainments were given there by musicians, jugglers, and gypsies; it amused Valentine, and it was all a matter of indifference to Madame de Ravenelle.
One day, however, the old lady said to her niece:
"By the way, Valentine, have you ever heard of the young Comte Léodgard de Marvejols?"
"The name is familiar to me, and I have an idea that my father often mentioned it.—Why do you ask me that question, aunt?"
"Because my brother was very desirous that young Léodgard should some day become your husband."
"Ah! my father desired it?"
"Yes; he told me so again just before he died. He was very closely attached to young Léodgard's father, who had the same wish."
"Well, aunt?"