It is evident that Hélène might have spent a most agreeable winter in Vienna, but she did not like Viennese society. A Parisian at heart, she felt there entirely out of her element. Her husband, on the other hand, who had known all the families about Court from childhood, was infinitely more at home in Vienna than in Paris. He was on the most intimate terms with all the young married women who were friends of his sisters. One of them in particular treated him with the affectionate familiarity of an old playfellow; this was the Comtesse Kinsky, born a Dietrichstein, and daughter-in-law to the Princess presiding at the Belvédère. It would have been difficult to meet with a more fascinating woman, and her romantic story added greatly to her charm. Comte Kinsky’s parents and her own had agreed on a marriage between their children without consulting them on the subject. The young Count was garrisoned in a small Hungarian town, and only arrived in time for the marriage ceremony. Immediately afterwards he conducted his young wife home, kissed her hand, and said: “Madame, we have obeyed our parents; and I must confess it is with regret that I leave you; but my affections have long been engaged to a woman without whom I cannot live, and to whom I must now return.” A post-chaise was at the door of the church; the Count drove off and never returned. Comtesse Kinsky was therefore neither maid, wife, nor widow, and the dangers of this peculiar position were enhanced by her extreme beauty, which it would have been difficult to outrival. She united to her external charms a cultivated mind and an excellent heart. Hélène often met her at the Comtesse de Thun’s, who was an intimate friend of the de Lignes, and whose house was their habitual rendezvous. Comte François de Dietrichstein,[57] Madame de Kinsky’s brother, was a great friend of Prince Charles, with whom he had been brought up. The peculiar position of the Countess rendered this intimacy very hazardous, and Prince Charles’s tender affection for her partook very much of the nature of love. With a woman’s quick instinct, Hélène divined between her husband and the beautiful Countess a secret tie, the nature of which she could not make out, the strictest propriety being observed on both sides. We must admit that, in spite of little Sidonie’s birth, which for a moment drew the pair more closely together, they were becoming very indifferent towards each other. The Prince had not forgotten the contemptuous manner with which his wife had treated him in Paris, and he was not sorry to show her that in Vienna he played quite a different part. In short, neither one nor the other had made a love match. Social conventions and a similarity of tastes had conduced to a certain degree of friendship; but would that suffice to guard either against any warmer sentiment that might intervene?