"He is not a bad man," replied Julie, "but he is very old and feeble, and his second wife governs him completely." "She is a genuine plague spot, that ex-Madame d'Orlandes!" cried the baroness. "Do not speak ill of her, madame la baronne," retorted Marcel; "she belongs to that society and entertains those opinions which you certainly look upon as the law and the prophets." "What is that, monsieur le procureur?" "She abhors the new ideas and considers the privileges of birth the blessed ark of tradition." "Do not insult me by comparing me to that woman," said the baroness; "that her ideas are all right is very possible; but her actions are all wrong. She is miserly, and people say that she would even desert her opinions for money." "Oh! in that case," said Marcel, with an equivocal smile which Madame d'Ancourt took for an act of homage, "I can understand that madame la baronne must regard her with profound aversion." He bowed and retired. "That man is not by any means ill-bred!" said the baroness, who had observed the dignified and respectful ease of his exit. "His name is Thierry, you say?" "Like his uncle's the rich man, and like his other uncle, much more favorably known, Thierry the painter of flowers." "Ah! the painter? I almost knew the excellent Thierry. My husband used to receive him in the morning." "Everybody received him at all hours, my dear love, at least all people of taste and intelligence; for he was a charming old man, extremely well educated and most agreeable in conversation." "Baron d'Ancourt apparently lacks taste and intelligence, for he did not choose to have him to dinner." "I do not say that the baron lacks----" "Say it, say it, I don't care; I know more about it than you do." And, having delivered that double-edged retort, the baroness, who had a sovereign contempt for her husband's intellect, but forgave him in consideration of his eminent qualities in the matter of noble birth, indulged in a hearty and good-humored peal of laughter. "Let us return to these Thierrys," she said. "Do I understand that you were well acquainted with the artist?" "No, I did not know him. You know that Comte d'Estrelle fell sick immediately after our marriage, that I went with him to take the waters, and that as a matter of fact I have never received visitors at all, for he simply languished and languished until he died." "That is why you have never seen society and know nothing about it. Poor dear, after sacrificing yourself for a brilliant life, you have known nothing except the duties due to a dying man, the crêpe of mourning, and the annoyances of business! Come, you must leave all this behind you, my dear Julie; you must marry again." "Ah! God forbid!" cried the countess. "You propose to live alone and bury yourself, at your age? Impossible!"