wept up the ashes of the hearth, which
bore witness to a persistent catarrh. Finally, the old man did not
settle himself till he had once more looked all over the room, hoping
that nothing could give occasion to the saucy and impertinent remarks
with which his daughter was apt to answer his good advice. On this
occasion he was anxious not to compromise his dignity as a father. He
daintily took a pinch of snuff, cleared his throat two or three times,
as if he were about to demand a count out of the House; then he heard
his daughter's light step, and she came in humming an air from Il
Barbiere.

"Good-morning, papa. What do you want with me so early?" Having sung
these words, as though they were the refrain of the melody, she kissed
the Count, not with the familiar tenderness which makes a daughter's
love so sweet a thing, but with the light carelessness of a mistress
confident of pleasing, whatever she may do.

"My dear child," said Monsieur de Fontaine, gravely, "I sent for you to
talk to you very seriously about your future prospects. You are at this
moment under the necessity of making such a choice of a husband as may
secure your durable happiness----"

"My good father," replied Emilie, assuming her most coaxing tone of
voice to interrupt him, "it strikes me that the armistice on which we
agreed as to my suitors is not yet expired."

"Emilie, we must to-day forbear from jesting on so important a matter.
For some time past the efforts of those who most truly love you, my dear
child, have been concentrated on the endeavor to settle you suitably;
and you would be guilty of ingratitude in meeting with levity those
proofs of kindness which I am not alone in lavishing on you."

As she heard these words, after flashing a mischievously inquisitive
look at the furniture of her father's study, the young girl brought
forward the armchair which looked as if it had been least used by
petitioners, set it at the side of the fireplace so as to sit facing
her father, and settled herself in so solemn an attitude that it was
impossible not to read in it a mocking intention, crossing her arms over
the dainty trimmings of a pelerine a la neige, and ruthlessly crushing
its endless frills of white tulle. After a laughing side glance at her
old father's troubled face, she broke silence.

"I never heard you say, my dear father, that the Government issued its
instructions in its dressing-gown. However," and she smiled, "that does
not m