总网A区要闻--江西频道--人民网

[464]

But as dinner-parties then took place in the day-time, often as early as two oclock, Lisette soon found it impossible to spare the time to go to them. What finally decided her to give them up was an absurd contretemps that happened one day when she was going to dine with the Princesse de Rohan-Rochefort. Just as she was dressed in a white satin dress she was wearing for the first time, and ready to get into the carriage, she, like her father in former days, remembered that she wished to look again at a picture she was painting, and going into her studio sat down upon a chair which stood before her easel without noticing that her palette was upon it. The consequences were of course far more disastrous than what had befallen her father; it was impossible to go to the party, and after this she declined as a rule all except evening invitations, of which she had even more than enough.

Mme. de Tess took a house near which Pauline and her husband found an apartment, and their first endeavour was to regain possession of the h?tel de Noailles, which had not been sold but was occupied by the Consul Le Brun, who had just left the Tuileries, now inhabited by Napoleon. They did not succeed, however, in getting it back until the Restoration. One day, having to go to the Temple to see one of the young le Rebours, who had come back without permission, was imprisoned there, and whose release she soon procured, Pauline passed through the now deserted corridors and rooms which had been the prison of the royal family. Looking about for any trace of them she found in a cupboard an old blue salad-bowl which had belonged to them, and which she carried away as a precious relic.

Seeing at once what was the question, she answered: You are mistaken, citoyens, those who embarked were not contre-revolutionnaires. They went by lanes and cross-roads which were so bad that the carriage broke down, and they had to wait for an hour and a half in a tavern full of volunteers, who cast sinister glances at them, asked many questions, but finally allowed them to go on. It was very cold, night was approaching, the roads got worse and worse, and at last they had to get out and walk.

It was not a marriage that promised much happiness. Sheridan was forty-six and a confirmed spendthrift. He was a widower, and the extraordinary likeness of Pamela to his first wife had struck him. Not that his first marriage had been altogether successful, for his wife had, after a time, had a liaison with Lord Edward Fitzgerald.