ot to apprise us that he was already married."

Mlle. Moiseney sent forth a doleful cry. M. Moriaz handed her Mme.
de Lorcy's letter; after reading it, she remained in a state of deep
dejection; a pitiless finger had burst the iris bubble that she had just
blown, and that she saw resplendent at the end of her pipe.

"Do not give way to your despair," said M. Moriaz; "take courage, follow
the example I set you, imitate my resignation. But tell me, how do you
think Antoinette will take the matter?"

"It will be a terrible blow to her," replied Mlle. Moiseney; "she loves
him so much!"

"How do you know, since she has not judged it best to tell you?"

"I know from circumstances. Poor dear Antoinette! The greatest
consideration must be used in announcing to her this intelligence; and I
alone, I believe--"

"I agree with you," M. Moriaz hastened to interpose; "you alone are
capable of operating on our patient without causing her suffering. You
are so skilful! your hand is so light! Make the best of the situation,
mademoiselle--I leave it to you."

With these words he took up his hat and cane, and hastened to get away,
rather anxious about what had passed, yet feeling too happy, too much
rejoiced, to be a good consoler.

It was not long before Mlle. Moriaz returned from her walk. She came
humming a ballad; she was joyous, her complexion brilliant, her eyes
sparkling, and she carried an armful of heather and ferns. Mlle.
Moiseney went to meet her, her face mournful, her head bent down, her
glance tearful.

"Why! what is the matter, my dear Joan?" she said; "you look like a
funeral."

"Alas!" sighed Mlle. Moiseney, "I have sad news to communicate."

"What! have they written to you from Cormeilles that your parrot is
dead?"

"Ah, my dear child, be reasonable, be strong; summon up all your
courage."

"For the love of God, what is the matter?"

"Ah! would that I could spare you this trouble! Your father has just
received a letter from Mme. de Lorcy."

Antoinette grew more attentive, her breath came quickly. "And what was
there in this letter that is so terrible, so heart-rending?" she asked,
forcing a smile.

"Fortunately, I am here," replied Mlle. Moiseney. "You know that your
joys and your sorrows are mine. All the consolation that I can lavish
upon you, the tenderest sympathy--"

"My dear Joan, in the name of Heaven, explain first, and then console!"

"You told me nothing, my child--I have a right to comp