Whoever had seen her bending to the light of the lamp beneath
the quadruply centennial hangings of that ancient room would have
admired the sublimity of the picture. Fanny's skin was so transparent
that it was possible to read the thoughts that crossed her brow
beneath it. Piqued with a curiosity that often comes to a pure woman,
she asked herself what devilish secrets these daughters of Baal
possessed to so charm men as to make them forgetful of mother, family,
country, and self-interests. Sometimes she longed to meet this woman
and judge her soberly for herself. Her mind measured to its full
extent the evils which the innovative spirit of the age--described to
her as so dangerous for young souls by the rector--would have upon her
only child, until then so guileless; as pure as an innocent girl, and
beautiful with the same fresh beauty.
Calyste, that splendid offspring of the oldest Breton race and the
noblest Irish blood, had been nurtured by his mother with the utmost
care. Until the moment when the baroness made over the training of him
to the rector of Guerande, she was certain that no impure word, no
evil thought had sullied the ears or entered the mind of her precious
son.
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