hese talents, he could have made his way to
the opera, but his dignity held him back. Now you know what has been
communicated to me by Baron B---. On the faith of an honest woman, I
have neither added nor omitted anything.

"I am going to astonish you. Would you believe that I am beginning to
be reconciled to Count Larinski? What shocked me in him is explained and
excused by his long residence in America. He is a mixed breed of Yankee
and Pole. Far from having prejudices against him, I now have them in
his favour. Do you know, I am by no means sure that he cherishes in
his heart any serious sentiment for your daughter? As a man of taste he
admires her. I should like to know who would not admire her! I suspect
Antoinette of allowing her imagination to become excited about nothing.
He talks of her on all occasions in as free and tranquil a fashion as he
would talk of a work of art. I find it impossible to believe that he
is in love. I have in vain watched his green eyes. I never have seen a
suspicious look.

"As I announced to you, he came to Maisons yesterday to dine. I had
invited Abbe Miollens, and Camille had invited himself, promising that
he would act like a philosopher; he only half kept his promise: for
I must inform you that my nephew has conceived, I do not know why,
an insurmountable antipathy to M. Larinski; he is subject to taking
dislikes to people. During dinner, Abbe Miollens, who is a great
linguist and a great traveller, and who has at the ends of his fingers
everything concerning Poland and the Poles, led the conversation to the
insurrection of 1863. M. Larinski, at first, refrained from discussing
this sad subject; little by little the flood-gates were opened: he
related his adventures or campaigns without boasting, praising others
rather than himself; when suddenly his voice grew husky and his eyes
dim, he interrupted himself, and begged we would speak of other things.
Fortunately, at this moment, he did not see Camille, whose lips were a
sinister smile. Young Frenchmen have become such sceptics! I made eyes
at the bad boy, and on leaving the table I sent him to smoke a cigar in
the park.

"I should confess to you that M. Larinski has made a conquest of Abbe
Miollens, who of all men is the most difficult to please, and who
disputes with Providence the privilege of fathoming the depths of the
human heart. You are aware that the abbe is a remarkable violinist: he
sent for his instrument; M. Larinski