they held me in
respect."

"Did you relate this incident to Antoinette?"

"What would have been the use? With women it does not suffice to be a
great man; you must have the look of one too." And Camille Langis cried
out, clinching his hands: "Ah! madame, I entreat you, do you know where
I can procure a Polish head, a Polish mustache, a Polish smile? Pray,
where are these articles to be had, and what is their market price? I
will not haggle! O women! what a set you are--plague on you!"

"And are aunts the same?" gravely asked Mme. de Lorcy.

He answered more calmly: "No, madame, you are a woman without an equal,
and I name you every day in my prayers. You are my only resource, my
consolation, my counsel. Do not refuse me your precious instructions!
What ought I to do?"

Mme. de Lorcy gazed up at the ceiling for an instant, and then said:
"Love elsewhere, my dear; abandon this foolish girl to her fate and her
Pole."

He started and replied: "You demand what is impossible. I am no longer
my own master; she has taken possession of me--she holds me. Love
elsewhere? Can you think of it? I detest her--I curse her--but I adore
her!"

She rejoined: "You should not use hyperbole any more than metaphors.
Both are unsolid food. When you decide not to love, you will love no
more."

"That supposes that I have several hearts to choose from. I never
had but one, and that no longer belongs to me. So you refuse me your
advice?"

"What advice would you have me give you before having seen M.
Larinski--before having taken the measure of this hero?"

"What! you expect to see him?"

"I am waiting for him to call, and I am sorry he keeps me waiting."

"Seriously, will you receive this man?"

"I have been asked to examine him."

"I am lost, if you feel the need of hearing before condemning him. Our
most sacred duty is to be resolutely unjust towards the enemies of our
friends."

"Nonsense! I shall not be indulgent towards him."

"Do as you like; I have my plan."

"What is it?"

"I shall seek some groundless quarrel with this contraband, this
poacher, and I will blow his brains out."

"A fine scheme, my dear Camille! And afterward, when you have killed
him, you will have gained a great deal. Have you confidence in me? I
have already begun to work for you. The Abbe Miollens, as you know, is
well acquainted in the society of Polish emigrants; I have sent to
him for information. I have also written to Vienna for intellige