When she finally did take her own lover, it was not with a member of the household staff. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. . ’ Madame Valade reseated herself, and Gerald set himself to flatter her into relaxation again. That is an evil place!” She cried.
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