That name was like the branch of a tree, to which the ideas which _swarmed_ in her mind about rank, nobility, and the external qualities of a husband had fastened.

But, though the Chevalier de Valois was the man chosen by her heart, and mind, and ambition, that elderly ruin, combed and curled like a little Saint-John in a procession, alarmed Mademoiselle Cormon.

She saw the gentleman in him, but she could not see a husband.

The indifference which the chevalier affected as to marriage, above all, the apparent purity of his morals in a house which abounded in grisettes, did singular harm in her mind to Monsieur de Valois against his expectations.

The worthy man, who showed such judgment in the matter of his annuity, was at fault here.