IN A WINTER CITY.
society always said so. The Ciairvaux people
were very terribly poor, though very noble and
mighty. She had been married at sixteen,
immediately on her presentation, to a great
European capitalist of nondescript nationahty, who
had made an enormous fortune upon the Stock
Exchanges in ways that were never enquired into,
and this gentleman, whose wealth was as soUd as
it sounded fabulous, had had the good taste to die
in the first months of their wedded life, leaving
her fifty thousand a year, and bequeathing the
rest of his money to the Prince Imperial.
Besides her large income she had the biggest
jewels, the choicest horses, the handsomest
house in London, the prettiest hotel in Paris,
&;e., &c., &c.; and she could very well afford to
have a fresh toilette a-day from her friend
Worth if she chose. Very often she did choose.
" What a lucky creatm'e," said every other
woman: and so she was. But she would have
been still more so had she not been quite so
much bored. Boredom is the ill-natured pebble
that always will get in. the golden slipper of thf.
pilgrim of pleasure.