Twice during that week he saw Mme. de Beauseant; he did not
go to her house until he had seen the Marquis d'Ajuda drive away.
Victory for yet a few more days was with the great lady, the most
poetic figure in the Faubourg Saint-Germain; and the marriage of the
Marquis d'Ajuda-Pinto with Mlle. de Rochefide was postponed. The dread
of losing her happiness filled those days with a fever of joy unknown
before, but the end was only so much the nearer. The Marquis d'Ajuda
and the Rochefides agreed that this quarrel and reconciliation was a
very fortunate thing; Mme. de Beauseant (so they hoped) would
gradually become reconciled to the idea of the marriage, and in the
end would be brought to sacrifice d'Ajuda's morning visits to the
exigencies of a man's career, exigencies which she must have foreseen.
In spite of the most solemn promises, daily renewed, M. d'Ajuda was
playing a part, and the Vicomtesse was eager to be deceived. "Instead
of taking a leap heroically from the window, she is falling headlong
down the staircase," said her most intimate friend, the Duchesse de
Langeais. Yet this after-glow of happiness lasted long enough for the
Vicomtesse to be of service to her young cousin.
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