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Ball of Fat 6
Madame Carre-Lamadon, much younger than her husband, was the consolation of all
the officers of good family quartered at Rouen. Pretty, slender, graceful, she
sat opposite her husband, curled up in her furs, and gazing mournfully at the
sorry interior of the coach.
Her neighbors, the Comte and Comtesse Hubert de Breville, bore one of the
noblest and most ancient names in Normandy. The count, a nobleman advanced in
years and of aristocratic bearing, strove to enhance by every artifice of the
toilet, his natural resemblance to King Henry IV, who, according to a legend of
which the family were inordinately proud, had been the favored lover of a De
Breville lady, and father of her child —the frail one's husband having, in
recognition of this fact, been made a count and governor of a province.
A colleague of Monsieur Carre-Lamadon in the General Council, Count Hubert
represented the Orleanist party in his department. The story of his marriage
with the daughter of a small shipowner at Nantes had always remained more or
less of a mystery. But as the countess had an air of unmistakable breeding,
entertained faultlessly, and was even supposed to have been loved by a son of
Louis-Philippe, the nobility vied with one another in doing her honor, and her
drawing-room remained the most select in the whole countryside—the only one
which retained the old spirit of gallantry, and to which access was not easy.
The fortune of the Brevilles, all in real estate, amounted, it was said, to five
hundred thousand francs a year.
These six people occupied the farther end of the coach, and represented
Society—with an income—the strong, established society of good people with
religion and principle.
It happened by chance that all the women were seated on the same side; and the
countess had, moreover, as neighbors two nuns, who spent the time in fingering
their long rosaries and murmuring paternosters and aves. One of them was old,
and so deeply pitted with smallpox that she looked for all the world as if she
had received a charge of shot full in the face. The other, of sickly appearance,
had a pretty but wasted countenance, and a narrow, consumptive chest, sapped by
that devouring faith which is the making of martyrs and visionaries.
A man and woman, sitting opposite the two nuns, attracted all eyes.
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