l me any lies greater than those I used to tell at your age I'll
sell my property, buy an annuity, and go back to the evil ways of my
youth--if I can."

"Uncle--"

"I saw your Madame Firmiani yesterday," went on the old fellow, kissing
the tips of his fingers, which he gathered into a bunch. "She is
charming. You have the consent and approbation of your uncle, if that
will do you any good. As to the sanction of the Church I suppose that's
useless, and the sacraments cost so much in these days. Come, speak out,
have you ruined yourself for her?"

"Yes, uncle."

"Ha! the jade! I'd have wagered it. In my time the women of the court
were cleverer at ruining a man than the courtesans of to-day; but this
one--I recognized her!--it is a bit of the last century."

"Uncle," said Octave, with a manner that was tender and grave, "you
are totally mistaken. Madame Firmiani deserves your esteem, and all the
adoration the world gives her."

"Youth, youth! always the same!" cried Monsieur de Bourbonne. "Well, go
on; tell me the same old story. But please remember that my experience
in gallantry is not of yesterday."

"My dear, kind uncle, here is a letter which will tell you nearly all,"
said Octave, taking it from an elegant portfolio, _her_ gift, no doubt.
"When you have read it I will tell you the rest, and you will then know
a Madame Firmiani who is unknown to the world."

"I haven't my spectacles; read it aloud."

Octave began:--

"'My beloved--'"

"Hey, then you are still intimate with her?" interrupted his uncle.

"Why yes, of course."

"You haven't parted from her?"

"Parted!" repeated Octave, "we are married."

"Heavens!" cried Monsieur de Bourbonne, "then why do you live in a
garret?"

"Let me go on."

"True--I'm listening."

Octave resumed the letter, but there were passages which he could not
read without deep emotion.

"'My beloved Husband,--You ask me the reason of my sadness. Has
it, then, passed from my soul to my face; or have you only guessed
it?--but how could you fail to do so, one in heart as we are? I
cannot deceive you; this may be a misfortune, for it is one of the
conditions of happy love that a wife shall be gay and caressing.
Perhaps I ought to deceive you, but I would not do it even if the
happiness with which you have blessed and overpowered me depended
on it.

"'Ah! dearest, how much gratitude there is in my love. I long to
love you forever, without limit;