he was young and pretty, and passed openly by the name of
Senora Barbassou. It was surely not worth while making me elope with
you, in order that you might treat me in this fashion!"

"Lord Clifden told you a story, my dear, and a very silly story too. I
hope you did not believe a word of it?"

"Upon my word, you are such an eccentric character, you know!" she
answered, with a laugh.

"And what have you been doing yourself?" continued my uncle, whose
coolness had not deserted him for an instant; "where have you been?"

"Oh, if I were to reckon back to the day you left me, I should lose
myself!" replied my aunt. "A year ago, at this season, I was on my
estate in the Crimea, where I vegetated for five months; then I spent
the winter at St. Petersburg, and the spring at my chateau in Corfu,
where I had the advantage of a comfortable place in which to mourn over
you. Finally I had been two months at Vienna, when I received from my
steward eight days ago the letter in which you did me the honour of
informing me both of your resurrection and of your desire to see me. I
quickly made my farewell calls, started off, and here I am! Now," she
added, holding out a plaid to him, "if you will kindly allow me to
change these travelling clothes, you will make my happiness complete."

"I am waiting to take you to your room," replied my uncle.

"Nephew," she said to me with a curtsey, "prepare to minister to my
caprices; I have plenty of them when I love.--In return let me say to
you, Take it for granted."

They left the room, and I felt quite astonished at the way they greeted
each other. You can already understand the effect which my aunt must
have produced on me, and I was no less surprised at the new traits which
I discovered in my uncle's character. A complete revolution had been
effected. He became all at once very natty in his dress. His rough
straggling beard was trimmed in the Henri IVth style, and his moustaches
were twirled up at the ends. He left off swearing; his language and his
manners at once assumed the most correct tone, without constraint or
embarrassment, and with a modulation so natural, that it seemed really
to indicate a very long familiarity with fashionable practice. He had
not made a single slip. His frank gallantry had nothing artificial about
it; he was another man, and it was quite evident this was the only man
that Eudoxie de Cornalis had ever known him to be.

"Well! what do you think of your aunt?"