"It is very disagreeable at any rate, and if you please we will undeceive her, for I do not like to be ill-judged for having been too discreet." "Do you care so much for her opinion?" "It is not very pleasant to have one's good intentions misinterpreted."

"I should think it still more unpleasant to enter into any explanation with her about it. She might think you still courted her retrospectively."

"Pshaw, as if it were not plain to every one that I love you alone, darling !"

"Still, she might; I have learned to know her better this last hour; she would cry from the house-tops that you married me because you could not get her."

"Oh no!"

"Yes, she would. Let us drop the matter, and be content to avoid her as much as possible.'

On this they agreed, and the agreement was sealed with a kiss.

But social necessities are often stronger than any resolution one can make. The young couple were obliged to accept the round of

festivities generally termed wedding returns. Every where they met the Lauths and the implacable Adda. A family dinner was even forced upon them by the latter, and, whether it was through a freak of destiny or through revengeful premeditation, the poor Doctor was assigned a seat by his enemy. Every one felt the awkwardness of the situation, and suffered under it. Mr. Marchal was ill at ease, Clara was jealous and Adda felt probably as uncomfortable as all the rest. The poor girl was not made to

carry out deep laid plots or violent schemes. She succeeded, however, in insulting the professor in two instances, and in so direct and provoking a manner as to call upon herself the attention of all the guests, and deserved in consequence a severe reprimand from her parents. This circumstance became the means of breaking up the intimacy that had heretofore existed between the two families. The Doctor reproved Mr. Lauth for the course he had taken, and Mr. Lauth insisted that any father would have pursued the same. This rupture did not, however, put an end to hostilities. Wherever Miss Lauth met her former suitor, she persecuted him with a feline animosity; not by direct and coarse attacks, society would not have suffered it, but by an infinity of invisible stings, malicious epigrams and pointed witticisms. The poor Doctor on entering a drawing room where she was, was sure to be assailed. sense of dignity would not allow him to conceal himself or to withdraw, yet was it a constant mortification to be thus subject to thrusts he could not parry, and the prolonged torture told gradually on his temperament. His wife would at times sympathize with him, but at others again would interpret his absent mindedness to thoughts about Adda, and reproach him with being absorbed by the revengeful sprightliness of their common enemy.

His

What most irritated Clara, was to see Adda so much courted and admired. The secret fire that devoured her, had strangely sharpened her wit, and animated her countenance. Judge Pastourian declared she had quite a Parisian style about her. In addition to this, and whilst the spiteful beauty was reaping so much admiration, poor Clara's face was suffering from the first effects of maternity she had a tired, wan look about her which set the dashing Adda still more advantageously off, nor did her being a mother make her gain any ground over her fierce antagonist, for Adda would insult her even in her child, stopping the nurse whenever she met her, and making all sorts of ill-natured remarks upon the babe.

:

Things were going on thus, when in the course of the same year the papers on the other side of the Rhine announced that the little town of Hochstein was decimated by an epidemic of severe quinsy. There were neither physicians nor nurses left in the community;

all that were wont to attend the sick had perished in the attempt. Two physicians who had come to the rescue from Munich, had been brought back within forty-eight hours in a hearse. Mr. Marchal thought himself in possession of a certain specific against quinsy; his first attempts had been successful, but he had not had as yet an opportunity of experimenting on a large scale. He set out for Hochstein despite the remonstrances of his friends and the tears of his wife." If I was in the army," said he to Clara, "you would not forbid my going to war; well my dear, the enemy is at Hochstein, and I should be there to fight | him. He was six weeks absent and returned in perfect health, after having saved all that remained in the town to be saved. An act of courage performed in so simple a manner was much noised about in the world. The king of Bavaria wrote an autograph letter to Mr. de Marchal, conferring a title upon him and offering him a pension of six thousand francs from the state. The professor replied in respectful terms that the prefix de could not well be adapted to his name, and that the money would be better employed in helping the convalescents and orphans of Hochstein. About the same time the prefect of the department sent Mr. Marchal a letter of congratulation, saying that he had presented his name to the minister for the cross of the Legion of Honour. Mr. Marchal requested that the favour should be bestowed on old doctor Laugenhagen, who had, he said, an older and more national right to this honour than he.

This noble conduct obtained from the public the praise it deserved all Strasburg felt itself honoured by the professor's conduct. One person alone protested against the general admiration. Miss Lauth could not understand how the same man could be alternately good and bad, loyal and treacherous, sublimely disinterested, and basely sordid. In one word, she could not admit that one could be guilty towards her without being so towards the whole world woman's logic. Thus, without actually incriminating Henry's last actions, she tried to find a dark side to them, and not finding any, endeavoured to invent one out of spite. Mr. Marchal had become something of a prophet in his country, she could no longer slander him as before without incurring the general

As

blame; she therefore changed tactics and began celebrating the hero of the day with ludicrous extravagance. She invented so grotesque a mode of admiration, travestied so perfidiously the praises which circulated from mouth to mouth, that little more was needed to turn the liberator of Hochstein into a ridiculous buffoon.

The Marchals escaped this danger, however, through a family misfortune which again drew upon him the general attention. Henry's eldest brother had for some time been in business difficulties. But luck had turned against him, so much so that the poor man had not even been able to attend his brother's wedding. For a long time he struggled bravely, but succumbed in the end. Henry received on the same day the intelligence of his death and the detailed account of his debts together with a list of some creditors poorer or more interesting than the rest. The doctor and his wife after five minutes' deliberation, wrote to the parties that they accepted all the liabilities of the deceased.

At those times a bankruptcy did not assume the monumental proportions we admire nowa-days; people were less enlightened and lived more plainly. Clara's dowry, and the house on the quay sufficed to cover the whole debt; it was a matter of two hundred thousand francs. Mr. Axtmann, who had not been consulted till all was over, protested vehemently at first; he declared that his daughter and grandchild were reduced to beggary and foretold all sorts of dire consequences. But when Henry gave him to understand that he owed to that unfortunate brother all that he was worth, that their domestic comfort would not suffer by it very materially, as he should always be able to provide plentifully for the little family, and that as to what regarded his son, he would much rather leave him an unspotted name than a large fortune, Father Axtmann being a worthy man finally gave in, and promised even to assist in mending matters.

When this last event became known, (and everything is known in a provincial town, Miss Lauth began to open her eyes. She recollected from a child how the doctor had always been known for his extreme delicacy of conduct, she embraced at a glance the whole situation of things, and saw that delicacy in the light of heroism. The only unworthy action

she thought him guilty of stood out from this pure life like a monstrous contradiction. Adda for the first time wondered whether she could have been mistaken, and that doubt alone racked her whole soul, for, if there was a mistake, she had persecuted an innocent man, and Henry's resignation, the patience with which he bore so many public insults, were in that case simply sublime.

It was whilst making a visit with her aunt Miller to the wife of the President, that the light broke overpoweringly upon her. The Marchals' voluntary sacrifice had been carried over town by a Mrs. Mengus, whose husband had been commissioned by the Professor to dispose of all their goods and to forward the proceeds to Paris. As Mrs. Mengus entered into the details of the affair, the complete impoverishment of the little family, their future modest home, Adda became more and more uneasy. Unable to bear it any longer, she hastily took leave, hurried home with her aunt regardless of the calls that remained yet to be made, and the purchases the evening ball at the prefecture required, and bursting upon her mother, just then engaged with two laundresses, the biggest gossips in town, she asked in a tone which took the unsuspecting lady all by surprise: "Mother, upon your eternal welfare, tell me if Mr. Marchal has ever sought me in marriage ?" There was no chance of eluding the question, or consulting her husband. Adda pressed her for an answer, and allowed not her piercing eyes to wander a moment from her mother's countenance, watching anxiously its every expression. And as Mrs. Lauth hesitated, "Answer, answer," she said, in so excited a manner, that the good lady, fearing a nervous crisis replied, stammering: "It is so long ago! You were so young! Besides, what do you care now, since he is married to another ?" Adda burst into tears, fell on her mother's neck, and after a nervous, "Thank you, thank you,” fled to her room, where she gave free vent to her grief. Mrs. Lauth and Mrs. Miller found her there a short time after absorbed in the Bible.

For some time Adda's mental condition gave her parents considerable uneasiness. Her manners and language went beyond all the limits even of eccentricity, and the family became seriously alarmed about her reason. Grand-parents, uncles and aunts, father and

mother, came together to hold a council as to what was to be done. Some thought her mind should be diverted, and proposed amusements; others advised travelling and a journey to Italy, others again marriage. But how marry her if she herself would not consent? There was no lack of suitors: she had discarded about half a dozen within one year. Only the day before, a friend of the Canon had proposed, a certain Mr. Courtois, a fine fellow, good dancer, counsellor at the prefecture, and only son of a wealthy family. But Mr. Lauth had been so distracted by his daughter's late demeanour that he had not even acquainted her with the offer. It was, however, thought proper by the family to acquaint her with the fact, and to persuade her to accept. They were all prepared for resistance, and expected to find her as usual, irritable and peevish on the subject. But Adda, contrary to all expectation, astonished them all by an unusually respectful submission. She commenced by getting ready for the ball, took, contrary to her habit, a hearty supper, paid special attention to her toilet, and showed herself that evening extremely attractive, Her entrance made quite a sensation. Although she was aware of the general admiration she was creating, she heeded none of the praises whispered around her, and only satisfied herself, her eyes wandering over the ball-room, that certain persons were present. Mr. Courtois, her late suitor, showed himself duly attentive, and engaged her for the first dance. She danced divinely, but when her partner was going to take her back to her seat, she requested him to go a little further, to the place where Doctor Marchal was standing. Mr. Courtois knowing the invincible dislike the young lady had always manifested towards that gentleman, was getting ready for combat, to show off his championship, when he was strangely taken by surprise by the following dialogue :

"Mr. Marchal, will you allow me to take your arm for a moment ?"

"My arm, Miss Lauth." "If you please."

"I am at your service.”

"Thank you, sir; I expected no less from you," and, making Mr. Courtois a slight bow, she walked the whole length of the drawing room on his arm. The whole of Strasburg was amazement ; every eye was fixed on them; Clara could not believe her senses; those who wore

“Do you think he would make his wife happy? He seeks me in marriage; my parents like him, and are ready to accept him; but I do not know him, and I have no means of knowing him. You are acquainted with him. If I were your sister instead of being your enemy would you advise me to become Mrs Courtois?" "No, Miss." "Why?"

"Because this gentleman, besides being dissipated, is also a gambler and a hypocrite. He would begin by ruining you, next would beat you, and would finally prove to the world that all the wrong was on your side.”

"Thank you, Mr. Marchal. And among my other suitors, Mr. Marchal, is there one who, in your estimation, deserves full confidence ?"

"Yes, Miss-Captain Chaleix, a man of talent and of exemplary conduct. You have discarded him, I believe?"

"Yes, but he loves me still; he will come back if I recall him. He shall be my husband. I accept him from your hand, Mr. Marchal, and I beg of you to consider this mark of confidence and esteem as a reparation for the many wrongs I have done you. And now take me to Clara, if you please."

The good notary Zimmer had reached this point in his story, and I was listening with undivided attention, when the horses stopped. We had reached the place of our destination, the Swan Inn. Our comrades were alighting from their several vehicles, applying themselves with arms and logs to restore the circulation of the blood, whilst the coachmen were handing them their guns, one by one. Twenty-five or thirty peasants, staff in hand, were confusedly grouped in a corner of the yard, under the orders of an old game-keeper. Two pointers, in a leash, whined impatiently like children. The host of the Swan appeared on the door steps, his fur-cap in his hand, and bade us welcome :-"The wine is drawn, the soup on the table, the omelet on the fire-to

breakfast." There was no time to lose, it had struck ten o'clock, and it was night at four. Every one hastened to the summons, drank, ate, filled his flask, buckled his cartridge-box, lit his pipe or cigar, raised the collar of his coat over his ears, and away!

Professor Marchal and the Canon's daughter were forgotten a while amongst the troups of rabbits bounding before the hunters. My friend, the notary, was all engrossed by his duties of head hunter, and by thoughts of his guests. I succeeded, however, in getting near him, and between two beats, asked him for the rest of the story.

"Why, I thought I had finished it. You can guess the end. Adda Lauth married Captain Chaleix, and lived as Christian a life with him as Marchal with Clara. The Canon's daughter and the honest Professor found out by certain signs that they had not been intended for each other since they lived so happily apart."

"Well, and what has become of all these good people?"

"They lived a long time as good neighbours in pleasant intimacy. What more can I say? You know what the course of the things of this world is, and that all lives whether merry or sad, calm or stormy, come to the same endold age, sickness and death. I must, however, tell you of a curious remark the Professor made once as the two couples were coming from the theatre, and were discussing an old stage-saying, 'I forgive you, but you shall pay for it. Adda maintained that it was impossible for a woman to forgive unreservedly."

"For example," said she to the doctor, “if you had made me suffer but a hundredth part of the affronts I heaped on you, I should never have forgiven you. Does not the remembrance of these things sometimes trouble you?" "Sometimes."

"And then, don't you hate me?"

"No, on the contrary, I rather feel grateful to you and thank you."