She had recourse to religion, the great consoler of oppressed virginity.

A confessor had, for the last three years, directed Mademoiselle Cormon rather stupidly in the path of maceration; he advised the use of scourging, which, if modern medical science is to be believed, produces an effect quite the contrary to that expected by the worthy priest, whose hygienic knowledge was not extensive.
These absurd practices were beginning to shed a monastic tint over the face of Rose Cormon, who now saw with something like despair her white skin assuming the yellow tones which proclaim maturity.

A slight down on her upper lip, about the corners, began to spread and darken like a trail of smoke; her temples grew shiny; decadence was beginning! It was authentic in Alencon that Mademoiselle Cormon suffered from rush of blood to the head.

She confided her ills to the Chevalier de Valois, enumerating her foot-baths, and consulting him as to refrigerants.

On such occasions the shrewd old gentleman would pull out his snuff-box, gaze at the Princess Goritza, and say, by way of conclusion:-- "The right composing draught, my dear lady, is a good and kind husband." "But whom can one trust ?" she replied.
The chevalier would then brush away the snuff which had settled in the folds of his waistcoat or his paduasoy breeches.