A Parisian Romance — page 219: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

210 A PARISIAN ROMANCE. to make him a visit, but I wished to wait until my son could come with me.” “And how is your son?” “A little more cheerful. The country does him good, it seems to me. He is beginning to smile again, poor boy. But tell me of yourself. Are you to be in Paris this winter?” “IT do not know,” answered Armande, with a slight hesitation. “If think so.” Madame de Targy cast an admiring glance at the grave, sweet face of the young widow. “My dear,” she said, with a frankness justified by their old friendship, “you are more beautiful than ever.” Armande smiled sadly. “Ah!” she said, “if you knew how little I cared for that.” “But you should care. Beauty is a great gift, a power for good or evil. It all depends on the use made of it. And you, my dear, we all know would never abuse it.” It was an unspeakable pleasure to Armande, who, in spite of her wealth, was so lonely, to hear words of praise and affection, from this old lady she had always been so fond of. Before the baron’s death, her horror of his shameless life and the deep feeling of disgust that overwhelmed her at the thought that she was bound to this monster, had made her exceedingly cold and reserved, and she had made but few friends. To Madame de Targy, Eomicbooks.Go