springs, for that gives an air of youth.—Had she remained unmarried for lack of opportunity to marry, or because she had preferred to keep her heart for the marquis? We are too gallant not to believe that it was for the last reason, and the marquis probably thought the same, because that flattered his self-esteem.

Aménaïde was no longer so slender, so graceful or so willowy as she was at twenty-four, but she was still fresh enough, and her eyes, while losing their vivacity, had become more tender. Monsieur de Grandvilain, always pleased to meet the only woman over whom he had not triumphed, began again to pay court to the flower of thirty-six years. But he was no more fortunate, and that was certain to be the case. After having had the strength to resist him when he was young and good-looking, it was not probable that she would falter when he was old and faded. Monsieur de Grandvilain, still haughty and pretentious, turned on his heel once more, swearing that he would never return again, and that he would carry his homage elsewhere.

Poor old fellow, who had passed his sixtieth year, and who believed himself still capable of inconstancy! The opportunities to forget Aménaïde no longer offered themselves; time passed and brought no distraction; all the ladies became as cruel to the marquis as Mademoiselle Dufoureau, and our old rake said to himself:

“It is amazing how the fair sex changes! women no longer have such susceptible hearts as they used to have!”

At last the marquis decided to return to Aménaïde; she was approaching her forty-fourth spring, and Monsieur de Grandvilain said to himself:

“If I wait until her springs become more numerous, she will strongly resemble a winter. I am beginning to be old enough to settle down. Mademoiselle Dufoureau is not of noble birth, but she is virtuous; for twenty years she has loved me, and that deserves a reward; I will marry her.”

And our lover of sixty-nine years at last offered his hand to the maiden whom he might have married twenty years earlier.

When Mademoiselle Dufoureau heard him offer her his heart and his sixty-nine years, she was tempted to reply:

“It is hardly worth while to marry now!”

But she accepted him; and that is why the wedding of those old lovers was celebrated in the hôtel de Grandvilain, in the year 1818.

II

A LITTLE GRANDVILAIN

When a man marries at sixty-nine, can he look forward to having heirs, to living again in his children? It seems to me not; however, it is probable that such men always look forward to it.

When such a thing happens, when an old man’s wife becomes a mother, jests rain down upon the husband; but the puns and jocose remarks go astray sometimes; in such a case, even if you do not choose to believe, it is very difficult to prove that you are wrong.

“An ass can deny more than a philosopher can prove.”

About five months after Aménaïde Dufoureau had become Madame de Grandvilain, she went to her husband one morning, blushing, with downcast eyes and an embarrassed air, and informed him that she hoped to present him with a pledge of her love.

Monsieur de Grandvilain uttered a cry of joy; he rose, ran about the room, tried to perform a pirouette, and fell to the floor; but madame assisted him to rise, and he began again to indulge in innumerable follies, for the pleasure he felt made him forget his age. He was proud to have a child, and with good reason, especially as his wife’s virtue was like that of Caesar’s wife: it was absolutely above suspicion.

From that moment, they devoted all their attention to the child that was not yet born.

Monsieur le marquis was persuaded that it would be a boy. And in order to believe that, he said to himself: “Good fortune never comes singly.”

Madame la marquise was overjoyed to have a child. Boy or girl, she was certain of loving it equally; but in order to please her husband she too pretended to count on a boy.

“I will nurse him myself!” cried Aménaïde, smiling at her husband.

“Yes, yes, we will nurse him!” repeated the marquis; “we will raise him better than any nurse could do. What the devil! people like us ought to understand such things better than peasants; we will make a hearty blade of him! for I want my son to resemble his father in everything.”

As he spoke, the old marquis stuck out his leg and tried to play the exquisite. Since he had known that his wife was enceinte, he fancied that he was twenty years old once more.

They bought a magnificent layette for the little one which was expected; they made great preparations to receive that scion of Monsieur de Grandvilain becomingly; and the intoxication which they felt was perfectly natural: if a young couple celebrate the birth of their child, surely they have much more reason to do so who have no hope of a repetition of such an occurrence.

As the time approached when madame la marquise was to become a mother, the more her old husband overwhelmed her with attentions and care; it went so far sometimes that Madame de Grandvilain lost her appetite with her freedom of action. Monsieur le marquis would not allow her to go out on foot, he was apprehensive of the least fatigue, he watched to see that she ate nothing that might injure her; and his espionage became sheer cruelty to her who was the object of it, for the marquis detected peril in the simplest thing, and it was at once irrevocably forbidden; so that, toward the end of her pregnancy, Madame de Grandvilain was given nothing but bread soup, the only sort of food which, according to Monsieur de Grandvilain, was not dangerous for his wife. There was a physician in attendance on the marchioness who prescribed an entirely different diet; but the marquis depended more on himself than on the physician, and as he grew older, he became very obstinate.

The great day arrived at last; and it was high time, for the poor marchioness was not at all reconciled to eating nothing but bread soup. Aménaïde brought a son into the world.

Monsieur de Grandvilain did not feel strong enough to remain with his wife while she was in the pains of childbirth; but a servant, who had first been a jockey, then a groom, then his master’s valet, and who had now reached the age of fifty years, hastened to carry him the great news.

When he caught sight of his old Jasmin, whose red and blotched face wore a more stupid expression than usual, the marquis cried:

“Well, is it all over, Jasmin?”

“Yes, monsieur le marquis, it’s done! Ah! we had a very hard time, but it’s all right at last.”

Everyone knows that the old servants in great families are in the habit of saying we, when speaking of their master’s affairs, and Monsieur de Grandvilain forgave his former jockey for employing that form of expression.

“What! it is all over, Jasmin? Ah! the poor marchioness! But go on, you villain! what is it?”

“It is something magnificent, monsieur, you will be well pleased!”

“But the sex, you rascal, the sex; hasn’t the child any sex?”

“Oh! yes, indeed! a superb sex! we have been delivered of a boy, my dear master.”

“A boy, Jasmin? a boy! Oh! what happiness! but I said so; I was sure of it; I would have bet on it; don’t I always know what I am doing?”

“You are very clever, monsieur le marquis.”

“A boy—I have a son—I have an heir to my name! Jasmin, I will give you a present of ten crowns for bringing me this good news.”

“Thanks, my dear master. Vive les Grandvilains!”

“I have a boy—such pleasure—such—Ah! I can’t stand it any longer. Jasmin, pass me my phial of salts—no, give me a small glass of madeira; I feel as if my heart were stopping.”

“Come, come, monsieur le marquis, pull yourself together,” said Jasmin, as he handed