"Thaddeus."
"Idiot that I was," thought Adam; "I came near to cutting my throat
just now, talking about Malaga."
It is now three years since Paz went away. The newspapers have as yet
said nothing about any Prince Paz. The Comtesse Laginska is immensely
interested in the expeditions of the Emperor Nicholas; she is Russian
to the core, and reads with a sort of avidity all the news that comes
from that distant land. Once or twice every winter she says to the
Russian ambassador, with an air of indifference, "Do you know what has
become of our poor Comte Paz?"
Alas! most Parisian women, those beings who think themselves so clever
and clear-sighted, pass and repass beside a Paz and never recognize
him. Yes, many a Paz is unknown and misconceived, but--horrible to
think of!--some are misconceived even though they are loved. The
simplest women in society exact a certain amount of conventional sham
from the greatest men. A noble love signifies nothing to them if rough
and unpolished; it needs the cutting and setting of a jeweller to give
it value in their eyes.
In January, 1842, the Comtesse Laginska, with her charm of gentle
melancholy, inspired a violent passion in the Comte de La Palferine,
one of the most daring and presumptuous lions of the day. La Palferine
was well aware that the conquest of a woman so guarded by reserve as
the Comtesse Laginska was difficult, but he thought he could inveigle
this charming creature into committing herself if he took her
unawares, by the assistance of a certain friend of her own, a woman
already jealous of her.
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