‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. Much too young for you. She was fatigued physically and mentally, and neither mind nor body could rest. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. There was only one small grated window in this hold, which admitted but little light. They know only that the Valades have practised an imposture which affects all society, and some will think your adventures excessively romantic. " "So have we all. I have pleaded with her—no wonder that I have pleaded with her in vain.
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