Tall, handsome, and finely-formed, she was a good musician, drew and painted, spoke several languages, and even knew something of science,--a dangerous advantage, which requires a woman to avoid carefully all appearance of pedantry.

Blinded by mistaken tenderness, the mother gave the daughter false ideas as to her probable future; to the maternal eyes a duke or an ambassador, a marshal of France or a minister of State, could alone give her Celestine her due place in society.

The young lady had, moreover, the manners, language, and habits of the great world.

Her dress was richer and more elegant than was suitable for an unmarried girl; a husband could give her nothing more than she now had, except happiness.

Besides all such indulgences, the foolish spoiling of the mother, who died a year after the girl's marriage, made a husband's task all the more difficult.
What coolness and composure of mind were needed to rule such a woman! Commonplace suitors held back in fear.