h just
a touch of ill-humour. "You want a fairy prince, eh?--one of those
strange, picturesque, impossible creatures that only exist in the
imagination of poets and school girls. You are now twenty-four years
old, Antoinette, and if you don't soon become more reasonable, you will
die an old maid."

"Would that be a very great misfortune, father darling?" said Antoinette
with a roguish smile. "If ever I marry, you know, I shall have to leave
you. And what would you do then? You would be driven to marry your
cook!"

This sally put the old scientist in a good humour. His daughter was the
charm and solace of his life, and though he would have liked to see her
happily married, he did not know what he should do when she left him. On
the way back to the hotel, Antoinette tried to find some edelweiss, but
she was not able to clamber up to the high rocks on which this rare
flower grows. Great therefore were her joy and surprise, on returning to
the hotel, to find on the table of her room a wicker basket, full of
edelweiss, and rarer Alpine flowers. Was it for her? Yes! For in the
basket was a note addressed, "Mlle. Moriaz." Fluttering with excitement
she opened it, and read:

"I arrived in this valley, disgusted with life, sad, and
weary to death. But I saw you pass by my window, and some
strange, new power entered my soul. Now I know that I shall
live, and accomplish my work in the world. 'What does this
matter to me?' you will say when you read these lines--and you
will be right. My only excuse for writing to you in this way
is that I shall depart in a few days, and that you will never
see me, and never know who I am."

After getting over her first impression of profound astonishment,
Antoinette laughed, and then gave way to curiosity. Who had brought the
flowers? "A little peasant boy," said the hotel porter, "but I did not
know him. He must have come from another village."

For some days, Mlle. Moriaz glanced at everybody she met, but she never
found a single romantic figure in the crowd of invalids that sauntered
about St. Moritz. If, however, she had always accompanied her father,
who, growing stronger every day, began to go out on long geological
excursions, she might have met a very picturesque and striking young
man. For Count Abel Larinski now always followed M. Moriaz, and watched
over him like a guardian angel. "Oh, if he would only fall down one of
the rocks he is alwa