CHAPTER V
MADAME DE PLOUGASTEL
The postilion drew rein, and the footman opened the door, letting
down the steps and proffering his arm to his mistress to assist her
to alight, since that was the wish she had expressed. Then he
opened one wing of the iron gates, and held it for her. She was a
woman of something more than forty, who once must have been very
lovely, who was very lovely still with the refining quality that
age brings to some women. Her dress and carriage alike advertised
great rank.
"I take my leave here, since you have a visitor," said André-Louis.
"But it is an old acquaintance of your own, André. You remember Mme. la Comtesse de Plougastel?"
He looked at the approaching lady, whom Aline was now hastening forward to meet, and because she was named to him he recognized her. He must, he thought, had he but looked, have recognized her without prompting anywhere at any time, and this although it was some sixteen years since last he had seen her. The sight of her now brought it all back to him—a treasured memory that had never permitted itself to be entirely overlaid by subsequent events.
When he was a boy of ten, on the eve of being sent to school at Rennes, she had come on a visit to his godfather, who was her cousin. It happened that at the time he was taken by Rabouillet to the Manor of Gavrillac, and there he had been presented to Mme. de Plougastel. The great lady, in all the glory then of her youthful beauty, with her gentle, cultured voice—so cultured that she had seemed to speak a language almost unknown to the little Breton lad—and her majestic air of the great world, had scared him a little at first. Very gently had she allayed those fears of his,
